


The Beginning and The End.

by Velace



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Enchanted Forest AU, Explicit Language, F/F, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Omega Verse, Plain Old Sin, oh boy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-11 02:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 53,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13515075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velace/pseuds/Velace
Summary: Emma knew the moment she stepped onto the battlefield that her mother had made a mistake. It isn’t meant to be like this. She isn’t supposed to find her mate. Not now, not in the middle of a damn war, and it certainly shouldn’t be her. She is a monster, a murderer, an evil temptress, a Queen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. Notes. This is Omega Verse, which you all should know because I put it right there, in the tags. If you don't know what that is, I suggest googling it. If I get comments whining to me about it later because you didn't listen to me, I'm going to ignore you. I want to continue this, I like writing this, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters. 
> 
> On a less important and passive-aggressive note, I couldn't for the life of me figure out a goddamn summary, so yeah, I copy pasted the start of the chapter. Sue me.
> 
> Oh and, uh, I know... another story. Let's just pretend I know what I'm doing and move on, yeah?

Emma knew the moment she stepped onto the battlefield that her mother had made a mistake. It isn’t meant to be like this. She isn’t supposed to find her mate. Not now, not in the middle of a damn war, and it certainly shouldn’t be _her_. She is a monster, a murderer, an evil temptress, a Queen. The last person who tried to take her as a mate, she’d orchestrated his death and put a bounty on the head of his daughter, forcing her out from the safety of her own kingdom.

Watching the dark-haired, dark-eyed witch saunter toward her, Emma begins taking steps back. She cannot- _will_ not do this. She will resist. She will refuse. She may not be able to kill the woman, but nor will she bend, no matter how appealing it might sound to the Alpha within.

“Come now, Princess,” the Queen calls. “You’re not going to run from little old me, are you?”

She’s so far away, but somehow Emma can feel the words as if purred beside her ear, slithering hotly beneath her skin. She bares her teeth without quite meaning to and continues walking backwards; a few more feet and she’ll be beyond the Queen’s reach, safe behind the wards protecting the White Kingdom- wards that will protect _her_ from the need to move closer rather than retreat.

It’s not the same, she knows. Her grandfather had tried to force himself on her. The pull between them is mutual. All she need do is _look_ at the Queen to know that, but Emma is good and despite her history, the Queen is _not_. She cannot, will not surrender, no matter how warm or thrilling that overwhelming scent is.

The trouble with walking backwards in the middle of a battlefield is she’s bound to smack into something or someone sooner or later. She shouldn’t be surprised when she does, and she definitely shouldn’t be surprised when that someone turns and attempts to take her head; this is war, after all.

They’re dead before she even has the thought to duck the sword aimed at her neck. She whips around and stumbles back, realizing just how close the Queen is now. She has to be using magic. It’s the only explanation and although she knows it stupid, Emma thinks it’s unfair; how is she supposed to escape if the game is rigged?

“Em-ma.”

If sex has a sound, then her name on those lips is it.

She should have listened and taken the stories of the Omega Queen more seriously.

When the Queen takes another step forward, Emma raises her sword and snarls. The Queen laughs deep and loud. “Really, Princess?” She drawls, eyes twinkling with mirth. “If you wish to be a genuine threat, I would advise gaining control of your arm.”

Swallowing, Emma glances down at the arm in question and clenches her fist. She growls down at it, willing it to stop shaking. She’s an alpha- the only alpha left of her line thanks to this woman who dares mock her. She is not magic and no matter her biology, she is aware of how easily the Queen could kill her if she so desires.

A healthy sense of fear is only natural, and yet it is thoroughly _unnatural_ to her.

“Emma.”

Eyes flicking up, she growls louder and takes another step back. “Stay away from me.”

A brow rises. “And how do you expect me to do that?” The Queen gestures to the fighting around them. “Your mother wishes me dead, and _you_ are apparently her last hope _, mate_.”

The word sends a shiver down her spine and she feels her sword arm begin to waiver a second time. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why? It is what you are.” She opens her mouth to argue when the Queen interrupts and muses aloud, “Perhaps now your mother will cease her tantrum and consider my offer of a truce.”

Emma blinks and her sword drops slightly as she repeats, “Truce?”

The Queen smirks. “She didn’t tell you?” Emma shakes her head, confused as the Queen throws back her head and laughs once more. “And she calls me _evil_ . Do any of you even know _why_ she wishes me dead, or are you all simply loyal little lap dogs happily, obliviously playing your little roles?”

Emma sneers. “You killed her father, stole her kingdom and hunted her for years; what more reason does she need?”

“How weak you must think I am that it would take me years to hunt her, and that I would still fail.” The Queen snorts. “Was my earlier display not proof for you? Shall I kill another to show you just how easy it would be for me to walk into that throne room and snap her neck with no more difficulty than I would a twig beneath my boot?”

“The wards-”

“Are a fantasy,” the Queen interrupts, raising her hand.

Emma looks around and her breath hitches with the realization she did manage to reach her destination after all. As understanding dawns, something inside of her snaps and she lurches forward, eyes wide as she demands, “Stop!”

Fingers pausing no more than an inch shy of the barrier, the Queen stares, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before she grins slowly. She’s fast. Faster than Emma is expecting as those same fingers latch onto her throat and draw her back over the invisible line, back into danger.

She swallows roughly against the grip, forcing the growl back down her throat. The Queen should have died the very second she breached the barrier; how? Her lids flutter shut as everything she’d been trying to run from overwhelms her all at once.

“How adorable,” the Queen purrs, breath warming her mouth. “The Princess thinks she can order around her Queen.”

Emma clenches her jaw and opens her eyes. “No,” she denies, releasing the warning growl from behind clenched teeth before correcting, “My _Omega_ , on the other hand.”

The claim hits home and her head spins at the rush of pheromones suddenly emanating from the Queen. She didn’t mean to turn her _on_ , but she won’t pretend she hadn’t considered the possibility. The scent is a heavy musk of darkness and sex but with a hint of something earthy beneath, something warm and somehow _light_ , and Emma can’t help but breath it in.

It sends a pulse of heat straight between her thighs and her clit throbs, wanting.

A low, rumbling hum escapes the Queen’s chest, and then she’s loosening her hold, drawing the hand down along Emma’s neck, a soft caress before the palm turns hard against her chest and shoves her back through the barrier. Emma gasps as the heavenly scent is suddenly ripped away, gaze dark as she bares her teeth this time on purpose.

The Queen’s grin does not falter. “A pleasure, Princess,” she purrs before vanishing in a thick plume of smoke.

 

...

 

“Emma, calm down.”

A panicked expression crosses her mother’s face as she spins around, her own thunderous expression breaking through the cracks of an otherwise blank demeanor. “Calm down?” She repeats, voice low- rough. The anger erupts. “ _Calm down_ ? You sent me out there to kill my _mate_ , and now you want me to calm down?!”

Snow gasps, reaching out to her before she seems to think better of it and quickly pulls her hand back. “Emma, she’s not-”

“Yes, she is,” she snaps. It is an impossible mistake to make. The buzz beneath her skin, the pull in the pit of her stomach, the hairs standing on the back of her neck as pleasure raced through her veins; all signs that Regina is _hers_. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this stupid fight, as if enough people haven’t suffered because of your ridiculous vendetta. Your father was an asshole, get the fuck over it.”

“Emma!”

Ignoring her, she stomps over to her wardrobe and flings the doors open, fury rolling off of her in waves. She scents something sweet in the air and she knows exactly what her mother is trying to do. It doesn’t work. It never has and now that she’s found her mate, she doubts that it ever will.

“Stop it,” she hisses, yanking her clothes from their hangers and dumping them on her bed before she turns back to her mother. “I am done with this crap. Next time you summon me, you better have a damn good reason for it.”

Snow whimpers. “You’re leaving?”

Emma stares at her in disbelief. “You lied to me,” she spits. She lets her own scent flare as she steps forward, voice rising with every word. “You’ve been lying to everyone. People are out there _dying_ for you because they believe in you, because they think they’re actually fighting for something beyond your over inflated ego; of course I’m fucking leaving.”

 

...

 

It takes Emma three days to get where she needs to go but she’s stuck here another day until her ride arrives. Her mother had sobbed and pleaded with her to stay and when that didn’t work, she’d tried to rope her father into convincing her instead. She didn’t budge, but she promised him she would return eventually _if_ they stopped their idiotic war with the Queen and signed the damn truce.

He assured her he would talk with his wife. Despite insisting he didn’t know, she had a feeling he was lying. Although she’s only known them for ten years, it didn’t take her long to figure out her parents weren’t the type to keep secrets from one another. If she hadn’t had to hear it from the Queen, she knows it would only have been a matter of time before Snow let something slip and clued her in.

Grimacing, she dismisses her thoughts as she enters the inn room she’d rented for the night and drops her bags on the floor. Tomorrow she’ll be back home and will be able to put all of this crap behind her for another year or two.

 _Well. Most of it_.

With a sigh, she flops down on her temporary bed. Her mate is here and she can already feel her Alpha whimpering at the thought of being a whole world away from her. It’s stupid, she knows. She barely knows the woman beyond the things she’s heard and even if only half of the stories are true, logic says she needs to run as fast and as far away as possible.

While she has long since forgiven everyone involved for the parts they played when they shut her inside of a magic wardrobe as a baby and hoped for the best, this world, and the Queen especially, are a little _too_ out there for her. Her life, for the most part, is good; she has a purpose, friends and a place to call home.

She supposes she _could_ do without waking up to random strangers in her bed after a week long rut. _That_ , she concedes, would be a point in the Queen’s favour. The fact she’s sinfully attractive would be another _if_ she weren’t completely batshit insane.

_Although…_

Is she? If her mother lied about how much danger they were in, could she have lied about other things? Emma already knows not to rely too much on Snow’s subjects because a majority of them are mindless sheep who would follow her mother to Hell if she so much as asked them to.

If she paid more attention to the stories, would she even learn anything, or would they be roughly similar iterations to all the stories her parents have told her over the years?

Frowning, she glares up at the ceiling before closing her eyes with a sigh. She’d managed to go a whole three days without asking herself these things and now, with nothing better to do, her mind is going to torment her with nothing _but_ questions until she has answers, or gets drunk enough to forget them entirely.

She considers going downstairs again. The mead will be watered down to the point of almost zero taste but maybe if she drinks enough of it, she’ll blackout eventually and wake up just as her ride gets here.

Deciding there are worse things she could be doing, like asking herself things she probably doesn’t really want to know the answers to, she pushes up from the bed and is about to stand when someone speaks.

“Going somewhere?” She quickly reaches for the sword on her hip, and frowns when it isn’t there. She turns slowly, eyes dropping to the blade in the Queen’s hands. “Looking for this?” Tossing it down on the bed, she teases, “It served you so well last time.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Emma allows her gaze to travel slowly upwards. Now that’s she’s aware of her presence, the Queen seems to have decided to broadcast more openly and the scent, along with the view is doing a far better job of getting her drunk than the piss poor mead downstairs would have.

When she reaches the Queen’s chest, she lingers briefly before moving to her collarbones and sucking in a breath. Her teeth suddenly ache with the _need_ to sink down into something soft and warm, and her clit twitches in warning.

“My eyes are up here, Princess.” Releasing the breath through her nose, she subtly shifts. Despite knowing better, she _really_ hopes her pants are too tight for anything to grow down there as she forces her gaze the rest of the way up. “Much better. Now, I ask again; going somewhere?”

Stifling the urge to roll her eyes, Emma says, “If you must know, I was going to get drunk. Why, wanna join me?”

The Queen wrinkles her nose, a look of what Emma assumes is distaste contorting her features. “Here? You’re more likely to catch some disease before you’re so much as tipsy.”

With every intention of going through with her plan, company or no, Emma shrugs as she turns around. She’s barely touched the handle that would open the door before she finds herself pressed up against it, pinned there by powerful hips as a soft growl warms the back of her neck.

“Do _not_ walk away from me, Princess.”

Her Alpha howls, demanding she turn the tables and put the Omega in her place but she knows better. _She has magic. I do that, and it’s goodbye little Princess._ She could probably overpower the Queen fairly easily physically, but without magic of her own, she’s not the one in control- not by a long shot.

“What do you want, Regina?”

They don’t know each other. They’re not enemies. Before that day on the battlefield, they’d never even met. If she can believe anything her mother has told her, then sure, the Queen may have wanted to kill her as a baby, but it’s been almost three decades and she had her revenge when she decided _not_ to cast the curse.

“Is it not obvious?” She shudders, feeling the body press more firmly against her. “Can you not smell it- _taste_ it? Has your time away deprived you of such basic understanding of what you are?”

Struggling to remain composed, Emma swallows roughly and allows her head to fall against the door. “I know what I am,” she murmurs, eyes slipping shut as hands wrap around her hips. “You don’t-”

“I do,” the Queen interjects. “The moment I saw you. I have never _wanted_ in all my years and then you come along, smelling of my heart’s deepest desires, snarling at me as though you have no _respect_ for who everyone claims I am.” She hums, close enough that Emma feels the vibrations of it under her skin, and shudders. “Not seeing that fear in your eyes only made me want you more.”

Knowing there’s nothing she can do about it, Emma groans as her body finally succumbs to arousal and her clit starts to extend, growing longer and thicker until she’s swollen entirely and her cock strains against the seam of her trousers. She notes the change in the scent surrounding her a moment later, slight but heavy, but she’s too slow, mind too hazy to stop the hand from cupping her between the legs.

“Fuck.”

“Oh my,” the Queen breathes, teeth grazing the lobe of her ear. “It must be my lucky day.” Emma jerks as she squeezes her. “I do believe you will satisfy my heats quite nicely.”

Emma raises her head slightly, then thumps it back against the door. She does this twice more before she gains enough control to reach down and yank the hand away. The Queen gasps, letting her know she’s been caught off guard, and that’s when Emma thrusts back with her hips, forcing enough distance between them for her to flip herself around with her back to the door instead.

The emotions that flicker across the Queen’s face when she dares to look leave her conflicted, the desire to save- to protect rising before she clamps her eyes shut and tries to reason with her baser instincts.

 _I didn’t hurt her_ . _Not physically_.

If there were any doubts left about what they are to one another, those doubts are no more.

Tipping her head back, she waits until the desire to check on her mate lessens, and then inhales slowly, curious. Her eyes flicker open, detecting the hint of confusion buried deep beneath the anger and an abundance of remaining lust. She’s calm, save for the mild irritation of Regina having assumed she would stick around simply for her benefit, as she explains, “I am returning home; there will be no… satisfying of heats.”

The Queen moves, demonstrating her speed once more as she grabs Emma around the throat and hisses, “You are _mine_.”

“Yes,” she admits. Her mind, body, instinct; anything she possesses that might offer anything in the form of protest, does not. Will not. Cannot. “And I will continue to be yours, far, far away from here.”

The air shifts, lighter as something sweet rises to fill it. Something soothing. She doesn’t fight it, embracing it instead as the nails retract from the skin of her neck to glide up the length of her throat, fingers curling beneath her chin and gripping her jaw.

“You will return.” Though it doesn’t sound like a question, she senses the need for an answer and inclines her head. “When?”

“I don’t know.”

Regina slides the hand around to the back of her neck and leans in, breathing the same air as she questions, “How can I contact you?”

“You can’t.” Emma pumps out soothing, reassuring pheromones of her own as the Queen begins to growl. While it works, knowing it won’t last, she quickly explains, “It will take weeks for me to respond.”

_Unless..._

“I don’t care.”

Smiling softly, she concedes, “Okay. There’s a small mirror, in my bag.” Zelena is going to murder her. “I’ll give it to you. You’ll be able to talk to me whenever you want just… wait a few days before trying; I’ll need time to steal the one it’s connected to.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It isn't often I get comments that worry me. Rest assured, I'm not writing in Omega Verse as an excuse to turn my two favourite ladies into pieces of shit. All sex will be 100% consensual, and Emma will still know that forcing herself on anybody is wrong. 
> 
> If you've read any of my other stories, it will probably come as no surprise to you that I enjoy writing magic!cock fic. This is basically that with heats, ruts and Swan Queen not being able to keep their hands off each other. And yes, given the universe, Emma does have balls but I will not be drawing your attention to them.
> 
> Remember, I write happy, fluffy, unnecessarily smutty fic. I don't need cheap shocks and stupid, violent drama when I'm hilarious and far more comfortable being filthy. Come on, people.

Relieved to find the mirror where Emma said it would be, Regina holds it tight against her chest, a soft whimper falling unbidden from her lips. She had spent all night wondering if the Princess was simply playing tricks on her, wondering if she would decide not to leave it behind, wondering if she were missed in those hours after she departed the inn, aching with the knowledge it might be months or maybe even years before she stands in the same room- before she shares the same  _ world _ with her alpha again.

Staring down into the hidden nook at the back of the stables, she takes a breath, then reaches back in for the thing she’d felt the mirror resting on. It’s a shirt, she realizes upon pulling it out clenched in her fist. It’s not just any shirt, though, that she knows from sight alone. If she had any doubts, however, the familiar scent that practically attacks her senses and sends her eyes rolling into the back of her head would have erased them in a heartbeat; Emma has left her something more, without the slightest bit of prompting.

Heat infuses her body as she brings the shirt to her nose and inhales deeply, groaning softly into the material. She should have mounted the Princess last night, she decides. She shouldn’t have taken no for answer, should have overwhelmed the infuriating woman with her scent until Emma had had no choice but to pull out that delicious cock and stuff her full of it.

Breathing in once more, she begins to purr as her mind plays for her a number of different scenarios for how last night  _ could _ have gone. She entertains the thought of all that hard, beautiful muscle she’d felt beneath the alpha’s clothes while pressed together; rutting into her, hot and sweaty on top of her, grunting as Emma split her open, again and again until she’d knotted and pumped her full of come.

With another groan, she tears the shirt from her face and quickly flicks her wrist, sending it to her bedchamber. She will use it to her advantage, frequently, but any more of that out here and someone is bound to come across her, taking it upon themselves to risk life and limb to investigate why their Queen happens to be hiding in the shadows with a hand shoved beneath her dress and thrusting furiously between her thighs.

Shaking herself free of the thoughts with some substantial effort, she rises slowly on unsteady legs. This time when she takes a breath to try and gain some semblance of composure, there is only the faintest scent of her alpha on the air. It is enough, still, to warm and slicken the insides of her thighs further but she is becoming accustomed to the sensation, easily ignoring it as she brushes herself down and straightens her spine.

_ Next time… _

Yes. Next time, she will do everything within her power to ensure the Princess ravishes her thoroughly before abandoning her.

 

...

 

Tonight, she has decided, is the night. She has waited four days and can wait no longer. Emma had said a few. Assuming she meant the traditional three, Regina had added one extra as a punishment of sorts. As long as she didn’t think about it too often, her own suffering has been minimal. She hopes Emma hasn’t had quite as good a luck, hopes that by now the Princess will be pining for her as uselessly as she had that first night.

“Querida.” Gaze flicking up from the floor where she had lost herself in thought, she smiles faintly as her father sinks into the chair across from her. He mirrors the smile, much brighter in his affection before his concern for her washes it away. “You are on edge.”

She snorts. That is putting it mildly. “I am at war,” she reminds him. “Were you expecting differently?”

“No, that is not it.” He shakes his head and the relief she’d started to feel at first dissipates. “This is different,” he adds, eyes as warm as his tone. “What is wrong, my dear?”

She looks away. What is wrong is that she’s found her mate and rather than be at her side where she belongs, she chose to return to her world, out of sight and reach but rarely out of mind. What is wrong is that the idiot child, more annoyingly known as her mate’s  _ mother _ , continues to refuse to back down from a war she cannot possibly hope to win. What is  _ wrong _ is that her Advisors are useless, her subjects are pitiful, her father is a busy body, and she’s almost certain her next heat has decided to come early because it was under the impression she would have someone to take care of it more easily than any of the alphas she has previously allowed into her bed.

Tilting her head back, she sighs before meeting her father’s stare and admitting, “I found my mate.” The way his face lights up with another smile says it all. She understands why but in this moment, and moments passed, the happiness she should feel- the happiness he has always wanted for her, is as much a fantasy as the laughable  _ protection _ surrounding the White Kingdom. “She left me, daddy.”

“Oh.” His face falls, brow furrowing as he leans forward. “Why?”

Her shoulder rises, half shrugging. If she were to guess, she would think it has something to do with the woman finding out her mother had lied to her. She has a number of theories but none of them concrete, and none of them more believable than that. “I can only assume it’s because Snow White drove her away.”

“Snow?” He repeats with a curious lilt to his tone. “What does she have to do with this?”

She snorts. “It’s her daughter.”

“Oh!” Eyes wide, he slumps back in his seat. “The daughter she sent to kill you?”

Her own eyes roll, fond but exasperated as she says, “She only has one child, daddy.” His smile doesn’t quite brighten the room like his last and she can feel his concern begin to radiate outwards. She continues in an attempt to reassure him. “Even before she realized, I don’t think she truly wanted to,” she explains. “Snow has a way of convincing people to do her dirty work.”

He nods, well acquainted with Snow White and what she’s capable of. Regina scowls, remembering a time or two in which he has been on the wrong end of a few of their fights. There have been numerous, though none where Regina has come quite as close to killing the spoiled little brat as she has in those instances. She has been determined for as long as Snow has labelled her evil to reject the moniker but in the moments where the ones she loves are used against her, it is a more than tempting prospect to become the woman they all fear.

It would be simple enough, but no. More than the moniker, she is determined  _ not _ to become her mother who kills at the drop of hat and bemoans every little thing about her life; the poor, misunderstood beta, driven from her home by those stronger, smarter, and all around better people than she despite what she might like to tell anyone who asks.

“You have that look.”

“Mmm,” she hums. She knows precisely what look he means; sour, disgusted, and perhaps a little bit enraged. She comments, “The mind wanders to unhappy places,” and waves dismissively as she stands. “Drink?”

His smile has returned. “That would be lovely.” With no small amount of amusement in his eyes, he adds, “I cannot wait to hear about your mate.”

 

...

 

When night falls, Regina is already on her bed, not quite knowing at first. In truth, she is on the verge of sleep when a piercing howl splits the air and she bolts upright, blinking rapidly as she turns her attention toward the balcony, and grimaces.  _ Stupid werewolves. _ She should have had them all exterminated when she had the chance.

Swallowing, her eye twitches at the dryness of her throat. She had forgotten, temporarily, about her own rules when it comes to drinking with her father. If she let him, he would happily allow her to get drunk to the point she loses every single one of her filters and tells him absolutely anything he might want to know at the time because her father is a nosy, old coot.

Picking up the mirror that had fallen from her chest into her lap, she swings her legs over the bed and stands. Retrieving the pitcher and goblet from her bedside table, she makes her way over to the balcony and takes a seat in one of the chairs that overlooks her Kingdom. It is a beautiful sight, especially when the shops and houses below are lit up by the setting sun, making everything appear warm and inviting rather than dangerous and foreboding like it does around midnight when the drunks and freaks come out to play.

With a sigh and a shake of her head for her musings, she places the pitcher and goblet down beside her, pouring herself another drink before she sits back, wine in one hand and mirror in the other. Bringing the two together, she runs the tip of her finger over the glass as Emma had instructed. She feels the handle immediately warm just as Emma said it would, and sets in to wait.

She doesn’t have to wait long. In fact, she’s certain not even a minute has passed before the glass flickers and fills with a sight that most definitely takes her breath away. “Hi.”

As if those brilliant green eyes, the impish little grin and the absurdly attractive definition in those cheekbones aren’t enough, the voice on it’s own has her grateful she’d decided to be sitting down before they did this. “Hello.”

Impossibly, impish becomes even more impish. “You look a little flush.”

“It’s warm,” she croaks before taking a sip of her wine.

“Uh huh.” Emma watches her, a knowing twinkle in her gaze. Despite multiple attempts, Regina can’t quite muster the strength it would take to look away. “I’ve been thinking…”

Lowering her goblet, her brows rises. “Oh?”

“We don’t know each other.”

Her eyes narrow as she replies, “We might have had four days to rectify that.”

Emma huffs. “If you expect me to believe getting to know me is what was on your mind when you shoved me up against the door, then you’re delusional.” She has a valid point, but Regina merely sniffs, neither admitting nor denying it. Emma still smiles, which might just be worth the fact she can apparently see right through her bullshit. “Humour me?”

“Fine.”

“I thought this might be a good time to share-” Regina busies herself with refilling her wine while she waits for Emma to decide on what it is she thinks they should share. “-things… about each other, with each other.”

Side-eying the woman as she returns the pitcher to the table, she smirks, amused. “Is it always going to be this painful?”

“Shut up.” When she laughs, Emma bites her lip, undoubtedly enamoured if the look in her eyes is to be believed. She waits for the inevitable silence to fall between them before she says, “Tell me something.”

“Like what?”

“Anything,” she replies instantly. “What do you like to do when you’re not being… queenly? Do you have a favourite food? Have you been to other worlds?”

“I like to torture small children. I prefer sinking my teeth into a nice, bloody, still beating heart, and…” Seeing the frustration slowly finding its way into Emma’s expression, Regina pauses. There is only a mild sense of guilt but it is more than enough to change her mind, and she answers the last truthfully. “Not since I rescued my father from Wonderland; I still haven’t quite recovered from spending a majority of my time conversing with a cat and a caterpillar who smokes, for some odd reason.”

Emma nods. “I’ll just ignore those first two,” she drawls. “Why was your father in Wonderland?”

“My mother tried to use him against me,” Regina answers as she lets her gaze wander down to a soft, pink mouth quirked at the corners. “She threatened to dispose of him if I didn’t lift her banishment.”

“Did you?”

Her eyes snap up and she frowns. “Of course not.”

“So,” Emma prompts, clearly interested to hear more.

Regina sighs. She should have expected as much. Her life isn’t exactly the unadventurous one she’d hoped for in her youth. “I rescued him and while I was there, I took her voice so that I would never again have to listen to her bark at me through-” There were so many ways her mother had found to annoy her, she’s honestly lost count of them all and doesn’t even remember details of at least half. “-whatever means she has at hand for contacting me against my wishes.”

Watching her take another sip, Emma waits until she’s done before admitting, “That’s… a lot tamer than I thought it would be.”

She looks as though she expects her to take offense, but Regina doesn’t. Instead, she flashes her a small smile. When the only people she’s been around are made up of people like Snow White and her subjects, Emma was bound to develop some form of an opinion about her.  

Teeth grazing her lower lip as she considers her response, she eventually thinks of something not quite as insulting as the first thought that entered her head and says, “Your mother, despite her flaws, has always had a very inventive imagination.”

“I’m starting to understand that.” The mirror shakes and Emma goes out of focus as she stands up. “Just a sec, my ass was getting sore from sitting on the floor.”

Regina bites the inside of her cheek, thoughts of said ass flitting through her head. She shudders. “Enlightenment is a wondrous, though occasionally disappointing, thing.” As Emma reappears in the mirror, hair fanning what appears to be a mountain of pillows, she smirks. “Are we in your bedroom, Princess?”

“Yeah. Why?” Emma grins, fixing her with a look that says she knows exactly why she was asked. She then confirms the fact when she teases, “Are you having dirty thoughts, Your Majesty?”

Tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth, Regina purrs, “The secret, my dear, isn’t that I have them, but that I never stop.”

“Damn,” Emma breathes on a chuckle. “I know I should have seen that coming considering that night, but you’ve been so good up until now.”

“As far as you know.”

She laughs, nodding as she concedes, “As far as I know.”

“Thank you for the shirt, by the way.” Not quite satisfied with the small flush that gets her, Regina confesses, “Though I’m afraid I got a little carried away, and you may not want it back.”

As the flush spreads further along her neck and burns deep in her cheeks, Emma’s throat visibly throbs with her swallow. She sounds wonderfully breathless when she questions, “What did you do?”

Bringing that night to the forefront of her mind, Regina starts to purr. “At first, I simply laid in bed with it next to me,” she admits. “I was adamant I wasn’t going to give in to what my body wanted, that I was going to roll over and go to sleep while your scent taunted me through the night.”

Emma licks her lips and Regina hungrily follows the path of her tongue. “But you didn’t?”

“No,” she says, grinning. “My stubbornness is fairly legendary, but even I couldn’t resist for long; you smell positively delicious, Princess.” A pulse of heat shoots straight from her lower belly, deep down into her core when Emma growls softly. “My fingers were slick with my desire for you before I even realized where my hand was.”

“Fuck,” Emma husks, closing her eyes as if trying to picture it.

Regina hums her agreement. “When I rolled over, I rolled towards it- buried my face in it as I played through all that wet heat, wishing my fingers were yours. Hoping, somehow, that you might return and catch me in the act and punish me for it.”

“Shit.” The sound of alarm in her voice causes Regina to pause, brow rising. She snorts when she sees exactly where Emma is now looking. “Shut up.”

“I haven’t even told you what I did with your shirt yet.” Gaze darting between the mirror in her hand and, Regina assumes, the nice hard bulge between her legs, Emma whines pathetically before she takes pity on her, mostly. “I could stop,” she offers, “or... you could take it out.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Emma’s head thumps back against the pillows beneath her repeatedly. Voice thick with lust and far deeper than anything Regina has imagined yet, she asks, “You’re going to make me regret not fucking you, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Regina teases, “but not tonight.” No, tonight, she is simply curious. “I just want to see it so the next time I enchant your shirt, I’ll know exactly how long and thick it needs to be.”

Eyes flying open on a gasp, Emma almost chokes on her next question, “You fucked yourself with my shirt?”

“Well, no.” She deflates but Regina is quick to erase the look of disappointment on her face when she explains, “I did shape it into what I hoped was an accurate representation of your cock and rubbed myself against it until I came, however.” For added effect, she belatedly tacks on, “Multiple times.”

She hears the sharp inhale more than she sees it but she starts to worry when that’s all she hears. Emma continues to stare at her, the green of her eyes almost eclipsed entirely by black. She has a feeling this might be the moment that, if they had been in the same room, Emma would already have her flat on her back, pinned to the floor, or the wall- or perhaps bent over the balcony railing as she took her from behind.

“Okay.”

The word ripping through that last thought, Regina sets it aside for later, brow furrowing as she repeats, “Okay?”

Emma nods. “I’ll show it to you but after I do, we say goodbye because I need to take care of it and I’m not… I’m not ready for us to-”

Understanding dawns and Regina  _ throbs _ . She interrupts, “Okay.”

Emma’s lower lip vanishes between her teeth but she says nothing more. There’s a rustle of laces being undone and then there’s a soft gasped-groan. Regina doesn’t quite manage to get a good look at the pleasure crossing her face before the mirror turns, and she lets out a gasp of her own.

Her imagination was definitely not as kind to Emma as it should have been; her cock is magnificent. It is thicker, she’s certain, than anything she has ever taken, and longer by at least an inch than what she’d been imagining. What has her full, undivided attention, however, is the way Emma occasionally squeezes it in her hand, making it twitch and weep at the tip.

“Goodnight Regina.”

She whimpers with the effort not to beg Emma to stay, to let her watch. “Goodnight Emma.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit shorter than I'd like, but I'm sure I'll make up for it with the next chapter.

Emma learns. Slowly, but surely, she opens up to the possibility that the war with the Queen isn’t the only thing her mother lied about. It doesn’t disappoint her in the way she thinks it probably should. She has always been a little less sensitive than is likely appropriate, a little more forgiving or, perhaps, indifferent when it comes to the truth. She knows it will come out eventually, but she also accepts that lies are merely a part of life and some people are more averse to honesty than they should be.

She learns, each and every night when the sun goes down and the little mirror she keeps near to her person at all times warms to signify the call of her mate. She has yet to ignore it. She looks forward to their conversations more and more, sometimes to her own detriment. Just the other day, she almost lost a finger because she hadn’t been paying attention to what she was doing, too busy reminiscing to remember  her training and the appropriate way to handle a blade when you had no intention of _using_ it.

She was fortunate Turner, the master Blacksmith, appeared when he did to snap her out of it, though it doesn’t stop her from getting lost in thought. It happens more frequently than she’d be comfortable admitting, but far less frequently than she’d be okay with. She was never the best student, nor the best apprentice, but when it comes to learning about her mate, she is an avid consumer of knowledge. Regina has her hooked and with every little detail revealed, Emma is slowly drawn in.

It has taken no more than a week for Regina to win her over. After their first night, Emma has returned every night since, eager to learn more. She is teased more often than not, incapable of hiding her enthusiasm or excitement from the woman who will, she is certain, one day know her better than any other. Their connection, despite their distance from one another, grows stronger every day.

She has never regretted leaving that world when the time came. For ten years, she has wandered back and forth between Oz and the Enchanted Forest. When she turned eighteen, she was given all the information she needed to find the people who gave birth to her. She had found them and listened to their story- to _her_ story. She understood why they gave her up, even thanked them for the unintended consequences of their decision. She would never return to them, but she would always visit. She would come when they called, for the right reason, but never for anyone besides them, and never for anything that would require her to stay in a world she would never think of as hers.

Oz is where she belongs, and Oz is where she will stay.

Or so she thought.

She is learning, slowly but surely, that there may be one person besides her parents that might be worth returning for. One person who, despite all odds and arguments to the contrary over the years, might be enough to make her stay; to make the effort to belong to a world that didn’t want her, worth it.

This time, she regrets. If she had stayed just one more week, not with her parents but with this incredible woman she is learning exists beneath the facade of an evil queen, she might never have left again.

There are benefits to the distance. From experience, she knows that after that first night, had she stayed, she would not be able to resist temptation a second time. She can barely resist it now when there is no other choice. She cannot leave, not even if she wants to. Not yet.

It won’t be two years, or even one like she thought. Three months, Zelena promised. Three months and she will be back in that world, making up for her earlier idiocy and giving the Queen what she wants, making her pay for all these mornings Emma has woken up with the inconvenience between her legs as a result of the relentless teasing she had to endure that first night, and every night since.

Still, in the interim, three months might as well be forever.

 

...

  


In the afternoons, Emma has found that turning off her mind is the best way to get through the day. As long as she doesn’t pause, doesn’t let her mind wander from her current task, there’s minimal risk to her health. It helps not to be stationary; a lesson she’s taken to heart after almost losing her finger. She’d been admiring her work but knowing now how easy it is to go from appreciating her own skill, to comparing the sharp edges of a blade reminiscent of a woman with her own sharp, wonderful edges, she sticks to creating and leaves the admiration to the man who’d taught her everything she knows.

The same man who informs her this fine, sweltering afternoon, that her Queen slash self appointed sister wishes to speak to her before she sets her tools down and makes the long trek down the oddly named yellow brick road. It’s red, and not made of any material even remotely close to resembling brick, but Munchkins are weird, and it is the exact type of weirdness she has lived with her entire life; the kind the Enchanted Forest, unfortunately, lacks.

“You smell tense; wanna shag?”

Stilling, Emma blows out a breath. She’s barely through the gates. Usually, Zelena at least allows her inside before scaring the shit out of her. Turning around, she replies, “I would sooner stick my dick in-” Eyes falling to the bowl in her hand, she gestures to it. “-whatever that is.”

Zelena smirks. “As appealing as Swan Cock soup may sound, I wouldn’t advise it.” She waves a hand, transporting them to her workshop high above the palace.

The magic lingers as glittery little specks of dust dotting Emma’s skin and she grins, waiting for it to dissipate as she remembers all the times she’d made fun of Zelena for it when they were kids. “If you called me here to try your cooking-” She drawls, brushing the rest from her arms as she crosses to the other side of the room. “-I’d like to request we save my taste buds the torture and you can just hand me some poison to swallow.”

“Tempting, but no.”

Expecting something a little more offensive given it’s how they generally communicate, Emma frowns. “What are you doing?”

“Mind your own business,” Zelena murmurs before carefully measuring some sort of blue powder and adding it to the bowl of what Emma was assuming to be food until this moment.

She huffs, folding her arms. “Did you forget the part where you asked me to come here?”

“No, but I’m sure you’ll continue to remind me if I do.”

“Funny,” she deadpans.

“I-” Leaping backwards, Zelena curses as the bowl starts to foam and a sickly smelling, purple fog fills the air. “Oh, that is disgusting.”

The bowl suddenly flies from the table it was sitting on, vanishing a split-second before it hits the wall not half a foot more from where Emma stands. “I’m guessing it wasn’t meant to do that,” she comments, smirking.

“You’ve always been a smart one.”

“Is that why I’m here? You needed someone to verbally abuse?”

It won’t surprise her if so. It won’t be the first time, and it’s always good to have someone to snipe at when the need arises; who better than another alpha who won’t cry because you’ve hurt their feelings?

“You know I much prefer physical abuse; blood is such a fetching colour.”

“Glinda did say it was why she fell in love with you,” Emma replies cheekily.

Zelena shoots her a look that is somewhere between amused and annoyed, then sighs. “I called you here-” She drawls, the amusement much clearer in her tone. “-because we were rudely interrupted the other day and you never answered my question.”

Emma frowns. “I already confessed to stealing your mirror,” she reminds her. She remembers it clearly, if only because she almost kissed Walsh in gratitude for barging in and taking all that attention off of her. Zelena is bad enough by herself. With her mate by her side, she is relentless.

“Yes,” Zelena agrees, “but you never told me _why_.”

Grimacing, Emma admits, “Was kind of hoping you’d forget about it.”

“You were _kind of hoping_ in vain.”

 

...

 

Outside her room, Emma quickly runs her finger over the glass in the mirror before pushing open her door. Regina appears just as she sits the mirror down on the bed for a moment. She hadn’t had time to change out of her smithing clothes after chatting with Zelena on account of the fact Turner had appeared at the palace as she was leaving and demanded her help to finish one of the orders they’d received.

She talks as she yanks her shirt up over her head and tosses it in the corner. She’ll worry about cleaning it later. “So, Zelena knows about you.”

There’s a pleased hum that tells her Regina _had_ seen her shirt fly passed. “And a good evening to you too, Princess.”

Emma grins. “Just thought you might want to know,” she calls back to her, quickly stepping into her bathing room in search of a cloth.

She can practically _hear_ Regina rolling her eyes. “Emma, you can tell whoever you like, just as long as I don’t have to deal with them.”

Emma feigns surprise with a gasp. “You mean you _don’t_ want to be my sordid little secret anymore?”

“Well…” Curious, she wipes herself down in a hurry and re-enters her bedroom. She peers down into the mirror as she passes, brow raised expectantly before she disappears again. “If I did, then I likely gave myself away long before you did- I’m not exactly what you’d call quiet when it comes to my pleasure.”

“Oh, come on,” Emma whines, already feeling the familiar stirrings in the pit of her stomach. She snatches another shirt from her dresser and tugs it on, then picks up the mirror. “You couldn’t give me five minutes, could you?”

“How have you survived this long without me?”

“Please, your existence is not conducive to my survival.” She has never, not even during her ruts, needed to masturbate anywhere near as frequently as she has in the last week. “If I jerk off anymore, I’m going to end up giving myself a heart attack.”

“Your dirty talk leaves a lot to be desired.”

“I think you’re filthy enough for the both of us,” she counters, shifting to hopefully relieve some of the pressure.

Lower lip pushing forward in a pout, Regina says, “I sincerely hope that’s not true.”

Laughing and shaking her head, Emma gingerly sits on her bed. She stares down into the mirror, simply taking Regina and all her glory in. Whatever outfit she’s wearing today doesn’t leave much for the imagination in regards to her chest. Emma doesn’t really know how long she stares but when she decides it’s probably been long enough and directs her gaze a little farther up, Regina is grinning. She grins back. “How was your day?”

“Extremely dull.”

“Really?” This is good, Emma decides; a good direction. This will take her mind off her problem down south. Maybe if she ignores the rapidly growing bulge, it’ll go away. “No one pissed you off enough for you to threaten them?”

Regina narrows her eyes. “They wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh okay.” Emma nods. “So you just make up all those stories to make yourself seem interesting, huh?”

“Naturally. I can’t have you getting bored of me, not after what I’ve seen.”

Groaning, Emma throws herself down onto her back. She doesn’t _regret_ showing Regina. Not really, but it would be nice if she didn’t bring it up multiple times when they talk, or she might at least tone down the  _voice_. “Why must you always tease me?”

“Tease you?” From her expression, it’s clear she intends to tease her even more but Emma smiles anyway because Regina is being _playful_ , and playful Regina is, not at all surprisingly, one of her favourites. “I was referring to the time you tripped over your own feet in your rush to your bedroom. I only put up with you in the hope I’ll have another laugh as good as that one.”

She snorts. The laces on one of her boots had come undone. She is not _that_ clumsy. “I’m so glad I have to wait three months before I can see you,” she says offhandedly. “It’ll give me plenty of time... to change my mind.”

“Two months and three weeks,” Regina corrects while somehow managing to sound both offended and fond. “And if you’re not in my bed no more than five minutes later, I will find my way to you, and I will have my way with you, thoroughly, before I murder you.”

 _And here comes the twitching._ “Well…” Emma clears her throat, uncomfortably warm. She glances down, skirting passed her stomach and, yes; uncomfortably hard as well. “That was oddly arousing for a threat on my life.”

“Now who’s teasing who?”

Looking back to the mirror, she stares pointedly at the available display of flesh, then ever so slowly lifts her gaze. “With how much cleavage you’re giving me right now, I’m going to have to say it’s still you.”

“Oh?” With a grin, wrist in plain view, Regina gives it a little flick and tips the mirror forward. Emma’s mouth dries incredibly fast, realizing just how wrong she was; Regina had left plenty to the imagination. “Better?”

“Yes and no,” she croaks, devouring everything with her eyes. Regina’s nipples were clearly designed specifically for her mouth.

Finger dipping between her breasts, Regina chuckles lowly and questions, “Regretting your decisions yet?”

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do,” she argues. “I also think I’m not quite done with you yet.”

With a little more of a tilt downwards, Emma is treated to an even more enticing view. Whatever Regina was wearing when they began, it is gone in its entirety. As a hand travels swiftly down a beautifully toned stomach and in between thighs Emma will, from this moment on, shamelessly and vividly fantasize about being wrapped around her hips, her head, and just about any other part of her body one might find thighs wrapped around, she breathes. “Fuck me.”

“Soon,” Regina purrs. “Until then, I think I’ll fuck _me..._ and let you watch.”


	4. Chapter 4

“My Queen!”

Realizing her hand had somehow found its way around her guard’s throat, Regina quickly shoves the younger woman back. If there is one thing she can’t stand above all else, it’s being woken up in the early hours of the morning. Were there not perfectly valid reasons for someone doing so, she’d have gladly crushed the woman’s windpipe before rolling over and going straight back to sleep.

“What is the meaning of this?”

She hadn’t needed to ask. As soon as the question is out of her mouth, she feels it; the stiffness of her spine, the sweat along her brow, and the coarse fabric of her blankets against the sensitive skin of her breasts. She had been broadcasting in her sleep.

Ignoring the guard’s attempt to sputter a response, she groans and forces herself out of bed. She makes sure to grab the mirror from her bedside table before she stumbles from her bedchamber and down the hall. Other guards hurry to keep up with her, offering her some rather unnecessary, but very much appreciated protection from any potential alphas wandering about.

Which of them would be stupid enough to take advantage of her, she doesn’t know but there are few who turn into mindless beasts when they scent an omega in heat. Luckily, most of her guards are omegas themselves, the occasional beta thrown in for variety. Not so luckily, her magic has a tendency to be woefully unpredictable when she’s in this sort of state.

“Majesty…”

She pauses a moment to allow the approaching guard to place a robe over her shoulders, exiting the palace as she pulls it tighter about her body. Her carriage waits at the bottom of the steps and it is as her feet hit the last that the carriage door opens, and a familiar face appears to offer her a hand. She narrows her eyes.

“Get out.”

“But-”

“Out!” The Captain of her Guard quickly climbs out, a pitiful expression on his face. She takes his place before turning to him. “Your services will no longer be required,” she states, and slams the door in his face.

The moment she sits down, the carriage begins to move and she takes a few moments to compose herself. She will apologize to Graham later. She hasn’t told him about Emma. It didn’t even occur to her to do so. She had thought- had  _ hoped _ her body would hold off until Emma returned, then there would be no need for Graham, the carriage, or the cottage she is currently heading toward.

_ Although... _

She hums thoughtfully. The cottage isn’t needed to satisfy her heat, only Emma will be necessary for that, but it does make her feel safe. Comfortable. It would also stop any potential interruptions, and prevent her from having to explain to Emma why, when someone inevitably barged in on them, her magic had suddenly shot out of her and ripped the intruder to shreds without her so much as having to blink.

_ Yes, keeping the cottage might be best. _

Looking down into the mirror, she frowns. She has no idea what time it is in Oz but she has to assume it’s somewhere close to her own time, as it is always after Emma has fulfilled her duties for the day, and always night when their conversations start- or what passes as conversation before she gets too amorous and decides to entertain Emma in far more pleasurable ways.

Regardless, Emma is her alpha, and her omega needs her. If she is about to wake her, then so be it; she is certain she can find some way to make it up to her.

“Couldn’t wait til tonight, huh?” Not expecting the response so soon, she only barely manages to stifle her gasp. “Where are you? Are you moving?”

“I am in my carriage, on my way to my father’s cottage.” She can’t see Emma’s face; it’s too dark, but from the ensuing silence, she can only assume Emma is waiting for an explanation. “My heat…”

Somewhere a light flickers on, flooding the glass. She has a spectacular view of the ceiling before it suddenly tilts forward and Emma’s face fills the mirror, concern furrowing her brow. “Are you okay? I mean, I know you’re not but…”

Regina smiles warmly, touched. “I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it would matter,” she replies, shrugging. It isn’t as if Emma can come over to help. “You’re there, and I’m here.”

“I…” Emma’s face falls. “Fuck, Regina, I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason-”

“I shouldn’t have left,” she interrupts.

“You did what you needed to do.” Head shaking, fond, Regina touches the glass, tracing a pale, pink mouth. She would have preferred Emma stay, yes, but if she had, then Emma might have eventually resented her for being the reason she stayed, and neither of them would want that. “This isn’t my first heat, Princess,” she says, tone teasing. “You’re not as special as you’d like to think.”

Teeth grazing her lower lip, Emma tries and fails to hide her smile as she rolls her eyes. “Can I…” Interrupted by a yawn, she wrinkles her nose before she questions, “Can I do anything?”

Regina raises a brow, trying while also failing to ignore just how adorable her alpha is when looking so dishevelled from sleep. “Like what?”

“I don’t… I don’t know but there has to be something, right?” When her brow simply rises higher. Emma huffs. “Does- is talking to me helping at all?”

“Yes,” Regina answers instantly. Were she not making the concentrated effort to control herself, she would be purring in this moment; the temptation to touch herself to the sound of Emma’s voice is woefully strong.

“Really?”

“I doubt it would if you were here,” she admits, “but yes, it’s helping.”

“Could I be… doing something… more?” Silent, she looks away, a suggestion on the tip of her tongue. “Regina?”

She takes a breath but it doesn’t help. She leans her head back against her seat and closes her eyes. “You said you’re not ready,” she murmurs as she slips a hand into her robe and rubs her stomach. She could ignore the warmth before, but not now, not when Emma is being so sweet- so considerate.

She never thought  _ that _ would be something that would turn her on.

“Fuck what I said.”

Twitching at the swear, she releases a soft growl and sinks nails into her skin. She said she would wait, that she would be patient. It might be easier with Emma but her heat won’t  _ kill _ her and Emma shouldn’t do something she isn’t ready for, no matter how desperate Regina is for it. “Emma-”

Her name is as far as she gets before Emma interrupts her. “I’m serious, Regina,” she says. “If our positions were reversed, you wouldn’t hesitate.”

No. If their positions were reversed, she would be on her back, pretending it was Emma’s cock inside her as she fingered herself for her alpha and begged for her come.

_ If only. _

“You’re not me.”

“No,” Emma agrees, her voice much rougher. Almost as if- 

Regina cracks both eyes open, hopeful as she peers down into the mirror. She follows green eyes to where they’re fixed, and whimpers. Emma tears her gaze from breasts and looks up at the sound, eyes darkening, robbing Regina of breath. Her already cracked resistance crumbles in the face of all that  _ want. _

“I can-” Wait, she wants to say, but no; that’s not quite right. Need. She  _ needs _ to wait. If she gives in now, she’ll never make it to the cottage before losing her mind. She croaks, “We have to wait.”

“Regina-”

She shakes her head, cutting Emma off. “Just until I get to the cottage,” she explains, reasoning, “It’s safer.”

“Oh, okay.” Emma flashes her a small, relieved smile, one that has her twitching all over again. “What do we do until then?”

“Talk to me.”  _ Distract me _ . “Tell me about the dream I woke you from.”

The smile spreads wider, becoming a grin that tells her she is almost certainly about to regret requesting such a thing. “Alright.”

 

...

 

It’s too hot. The distance to the cottage had been too far. She’s burning up, skin crawling, fingers itching to rip off her robe. She’s going to kill Emma. As soon as she returns to her; she’s going to fuck her, then she’s going to kill her. How dare she tease her, taunt her. How dare-

“You’re going to blow something up at this rate.”

“What a wonderful idea.” With a wave of her hand, the door Regina was  _ trying _ to open explodes inwards. She steps over the destruction to the sounds of Emma chuckling like the idiot she is, and waves a second time, repairing it before shucking her robe and bringing the mirror back into her line of sight. “Take off your clothes.”

“Done.”

Emma barely moves, instead throwing off her blanket to reveal she’s been naked all along. Regina whines. She can’t help it. After hearing all the sordid details of Emma’s dream, she’s more aroused now than she’s ever been. “You are stunning,” she breathes. Complete and utter perfection. Eyes flicking downward, she groans when she can’t see Emma’s magnificent cock- not that her breasts aren’t as tempting as the rest of her. “Are you...”

“You need to ask?”

Of course not. She should know better by now. It would be more a challenge  _ not _ to turn Emma on; the universe had chosen her mate well.

“I wish I could feel you.”

“You will,” Emma promises. “As soon as I’m there, you’re not going to feel anything but me for days… maybe weeks.” 

Moaning, Regina quickens her pace to the bedroom. She sinks down onto the bed the second she reaches it, a hand rubbing between her legs a moment later. “Emma.”

Without question, Emma turns the mirror around, treating her to the sight of that beautiful cock standing stiffly at attention, a hand wrapped around its length as Emma pumps it lightly. They both groan and Regina feels her cunt pulse, desire slickening her folds and slit, already threatening to pool beneath her.

“I can’t wait to be inside you,” Emma husks and Regina moans encouragingly. “To feel you clench around me.” She squirms, slipping two fingers inside of herself, knowing it won’t be enough but doing it anyway because she needs to come and she doesn’t  _ care _ if it won’t be as satisfying as coming all over Emma’s cock. “Hear you beg…”

“I don’t beg.”

“You will,” Emma assures.

Regina can’t tell if it’s confidence in her voice or simply cockiness but either way, she doubts herself. Maybe Emma will be the first for a great many things, and not just this. The thought certainly makes her wet.

Or perhaps it is the way Emma is stroking herself, no longer pumping the base but the entire length. Each stroke is languid, almost lazy, her cock visibly throbbing and slick enough that the light in her bedroom catches the tip so wonderfully, Regina’s mouth waters with the sudden desire to be wrapped around it. Hand, mouth or cunt, she hasn’t decided, but she wants it inside of her more desperately than she has ever wanted anything.

Gaze hooded, transfixed, she begins to the thrust in time with Emma’s strokes. It’s not enough. It’s too slow, too soft, but for these first few minutes, she allows Emma to lead and loses herself in the sensations, and the fantasies that fill her mind.

“I won’t last long,” Emma confesses shortly after. She’s panting, nearly breathless. “I never... never do the first time.”

Knowing that, Regina immediately thinks of how good it would feel if Emma came inside of her and arches her back, moaning. She soon loses their shared rhythm and begins to fuck herself harder, faster. She loses focus just as quickly, Emma’s hand little more than a blur as she climbs higher and higher towards climax.

Emma continues to murmur things to her. She encourages her, teases her, tells her the things she wants to do to her when they’re finally together. It isn’t until Emma is close, voice strained as she threatens to pull out- to leave her empty and cover her in come rather than fill her, that Regina cries out, stiffening for one brief moment before her whole body shudders, her release so intense that it easily soaks the bedding beneath her.

 

...

 

“Feel better?”

“Mmm.” Four times is apparently Emma’s limit before she needs a breather. Regina doesn’t mind. She’s dealt with worse. Much worse. Rolling over, she curls up on her side as she replies, “For the moment.”

Emma smiles, eyes roaming her face- taking her in. Regina purrs, pleased with the way Emma’s gaze continues to stray to her mouth, glad she isn’t the only one missing that particular aspect of having a partner nearby. “How long will it last?”

“Unknown.” Her heats tend to be as unpredictable as she is. Thankfully, they’d grown shorter as the years passed. While she may appear young, she is anything but; had her heats continued to last a little over a week at a time, they might very well have killed her by now. “Could be three days, could be five.”

Either way, she can live with this. She will in no way get  _ used _ to it, but she isn’t suffering quite as much as she thought she would with Emma’s absence. Her presence, despite not being physical, has helped. 

The mutual masturbation certainly doesn’t hurt either.

“I’ll speak to Turner,” Emma says. “Since I’m not meant to be here in the first place, he shouldn’t mind not having my help for a few days.”

More interested in watching her lips move than actually hearing the words they form, or forming any of her own, Regina hums. Her stomach warms and she squeezes her thighs together. They look soft. She can’t seem to think about anything beyond how they will feel against her; her mouth, her skin, her  _ cunt _ .

“You know…” Hand halfway down her stomach, she pauses and glances up. Emma grins and it’s somehow both unfairly adorable and downright sexy at the same time. “I literally can’t, but if you want to-”

Regina snorts. “Way ahead of you, Princess.” 

Sliding the hand the rest of the way down her stomach, she cups herself. She shivers, though it is not her touch, but the flash of teeth that elicits it when Emma bites down on her lip. She considers how those teeth will feel sinking into her skin, and shivers again.

“I will forever be kicking myself for leaving you.”

Finger pressing between her folds, she hisses before bypassing her too sensitive clit. “Save some of that punishment for me,” she husks playfully, dipping passed the tight ring of her entrance, just enough to tease. She moans, “You could do with a good spanking.”

She senses Emma’s hesitation, and ignores it in favour of her own pleasure. After a few shallow thrusts, each punctuated by a soft moan, Emma speaks. “Would I be adding to my list of regrets if I were to tell you that your idea of a punishment wildly differs from my own?”

Regina bucks without meaning to, and again moans, impaling herself on a finger as her mind latches onto the implication and bombards her with images of a rather enthusiastic Princess writhing beneath the wrath of her hand.

“Shall I take that to be a hard maybe?”

She chuckles, then adds a second finger, accepting it as her hips roll and she starts to rock against her hand. “No,” she admits. “The idea that you would welcome my punishments is-” Her lids flutter, eyes closing momentarily. It is almost enough to make her come. “-appealing.”

“I would,” Emma confesses, soft. Earnest. “I would count each one, and beg for more.”

“Growing harder with every crack?” Regina suggests. She likes the sound of it. She likes the image that accompanies the words even more.

“Yes.”

“Trapped between my thighs.” She doesn’t realize just how delicious the thought is until she hears Emma groan, sounding as if this is pure torture for her. Regina grins. “Would you come,” she questions, her fingers speeding up. “Would you risk my anger merely to have your desire running down my leg?” She knows the exact moment Emma begins touching herself again, never quite able to disguise that first hitch of breath. “Would you then submit to my anger and beg for mercy,” she continues, “knowing what you’d done, knowing you’d  _ wasted _ what was rightfully mine?”

Merely speaking what she is certain to become her new favourite fantasy aloud has her coming undone. She would laugh if she could spare the breath but no, what little breath she has is for Emma, and Emma alone, as she mumbles her name over and over, and prolongs her release for as long as possible.

As she sinks back down to the bed, fingers flexing before her muscles clamp down on them in protest, Emma murmurs, “You are way too good at this.”

Regina chuckles, panting as she says, “I have every confidence you’ll make it up to me.”

“You won’t be able to walk by the time I’m done,” Emma agrees.

“Looking forward to it, Princess.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's shorter, I know. I hate me too. Why did I separate them? Why did you all let me separate them? Who does that? Why did no one stop me? Enchanted Forest skype sex is HARD.

You wore me out.

Went for food.

You’re even sexy-

when you sleep.

Demon.

**-**

 

“I enjoyed your note.”

Setting her food down, Emma scoops the mirror from her bed and drops down in its place. She had waited until midday, when Regina decided she’d had enough orgasms to warrant a nap, to inform Turner she would be unavailable for the next few days. She’d stopped by the palace to let Zelena know as well before she’d grabbed something to eat and wandered back to her room.

“Horrendous as the thought is, I’m going to need to cover your face to clean it off before it stains,” she says, not waiting for a response as she uses the hem of her shirt to wipe the words from the glass. Once the paste is all gone, she smiles; even sleep rumpled, Regina is disturbingly attractive. “Much better.”

“I’m not sure I agree.” Regina grins back at her. “You have a delightfully tantalizing stomach.”

“Fair,” Emma concedes, “but consider this; my face is where my mouth is.”

“That is a very excellent point.”

They both chuckle before Emma guides them away from _that_ line of conversation. If she doesn’t eat soon, she’s going to starve, and then who will Regina torture for the next 68 to 113 hours?

As she plucks a slice of apple from the bowl beside her, she questions, “How do you feel?”

“Sore.” She nods, unsurprised. “Satisfied.” Her lips quirk before she pops the fruit into her mouth, humming. Regina says, “If you wish me to refrain from tempting you again, do try to be more disgusting while you eat.”

Smirking, Emma swings her legs up onto the bed and lies back against her pillows. “I’ve been told I eat like a malnourished street urchin.” With a sniff, she reaches for another piece. “So, you know, whatever problem you’re having is likely of your own making.”

“Mmm.” Brow cocked, Regina drawls, “I imagine the fact you chose something sweet that would provide plenty of opportunity for you to bite into something has nothing to do with it.”

Deliberately biting down and feeling a trickle of juice escape down her chin, Emma swipes at it and sucks her finger into her mouth, then teases, “You have a devious mind, Your Majesty.”

Eyes glued to her mouth, Regina makes a sound that suggests she’s strangling a whimper. Emma slowly licks her lips, earning herself a growl. “You are aware you will suffer for all of this, yes?”

Laughing, she inclines her head and admits, “I hardly see the point in doing it otherwise.” Deciding to get more comfortable, she places the mirror back down and sits forward. “Sec.”

“What are you doing?” Curious, and just a little bit suspicious sounding, Emma grins. “E-”

Popping the first two buttons on her shirt in answer, she doesn’t need to look to know Regina is waiting, breathlessly, for her to continue. She does, making no show of it, coaxing each button through their respective hole with the quickness and skill of someone who has done it a thousands times or more. Even so, she knows exactly what expression she will find adorning the omega’s face when she finally looks.

Standing instead, the shirt hangs loosely from her shoulders. She turns around, facing the mirror, knowing Regina will want to watch, show or not, as she tugs at the laces of her trousers and begins working them down her legs.

“Bold.”

She smirks, understanding the comment is in regards to her lack of undergarments. As she straightens, she kicks her trousers away and shrugs off her shirt before she corrects, “Convenient.” She climbs back into bed and sinks back against her pillows with a sigh, lashes fluttering momentarily before she remembers her fruit and resumes eating. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Not for food.” Smile spreading across her face, she picks the mirror back up and looks into it with a raised brow. Regina shrugs. “You asked, and after that little strip tease-”

Amused, Emma interrupts, “That was not a strip tease.” At her stare of disbelief, she insists, “It’s hot, and I was going to end up like this sooner or later.”

“And your choice of sooner while I have nothing at all to distract me was merely coincidence, I suppose.”

Biting the inside of her cheek to stifle her laughter, she nods. “Exactly.”

Regina shakes her head. “You aren’t fooling anyone, Princess.”

“I think maybe you just have too high an opinion of yourself.”

With a sniff that one can only describe as pure haughty, she counters, “Impossible.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I am who I am,” she drawls, “there is no higher opinion.”

Emma does laugh then and though she would never in a million years even try to deny it, she teases, “Modest.”

“Honest.”

“Yeah,” she chuckles, “okay.”

Regina watches her as she places another piece of fruit on her tongue, gaze darkening. She waits for Emma to swallow before she says, “Finish your meal so that I may ravish you before my own arrives.”

Emma tingles pleasantly, grinning when she replies, “Yes, my Queen.”

 

…

 

Hours later, Emma again sits up in bed. She’d had to throw open a few windows because of the heat, and now she savours the cool breeze blowing across her skin as she sips from the waterskin one of Zelena’s guards had been nice enough to provide for her. She is undeniably, and unbelievably, turned on thanks to Regina’s latest performance but for the moment, while Regina enjoys an early dinner, she ignores the evidence of such as best she can when said performance is the topic of their conversation.

“I don’t think the mirror was created with that purpose in mind.”

Although there is plenty of affection in her eyes, Regina’s tone is dismissive when she replies, “I don’t see why I should concern myself with other people’s lack of imagination, nor did I hear any complaints during.”

 _That would have been stupid._ It was hot. Beyond hot but with the fog of lust no longer clouding her thoughts, Emma also considered it amusing, and just a bit curious.

“I just don’t understand why you don’t summon one with magic.”

A brow rises, that same affection now lacing Regina’s voice. “Because the only one I want is currently attached to you.” She smiles sweetly when Emma winces, and adds, “Fortunately for you, I don’t particularly find that imagery appealing either.”

The thought alone is enough to quell Emma’s arousal. She shudders before taking another sip, almost tempted to reach down and pat herself between the legs in reassurance.

“I think we’ll have a rule about magic being anywhere near my privates.” Regina snorts. “What? It’s a sensible rule given what you just implied.”

“Certainly,” she agrees, “And if you wish to deprive yourself of the many pleasures magic can bring, who am I to argue?”

Emma gazes at her, uncertain. Her heart, for some unknown reason, has decided to thump rapidly against her chest. She _knows_ what magic can do. She had grown up alongside a woman who couldn’t stand to go five minutes without casting one spell or another- usually something that would irritate Emma to no end because Zelena, bless her, is a _bitch_. There is, in short, an almost limitless number of mostly harmless spells she knows intimately, and yet; not a single one of them ever gave her any pleasure. Zelena, they gave plenty, but her? Definitely not.

Had they existed, she would not have put it passed Zelena to cast them on her. There is nothing that quite delights the outlandish witch more than torturing Emma, regardless of how appropriate or, more to the point, inappropriate her methods might seem.

Logic and a lifetime of experience all point to the same conclusion. “I’m not falling for your tricks,” she decides aloud.

One bare, mouth-watering shoulder rises. Voice airy- indifferent; as if she couldn’t care less, Regina says, “Suit yourself.”

Emma studies her. She doesn’t know Regina well enough to read her with any kind of accuracy that might fill her with confidence, but she can read her well enough to sense she might have been a little too quick to dismiss the possibility. The idea that Zelena may have held back, and there _are_ lines she isn’t willing to cross is…

It’s inconceivable, really, but maybe-

Just, maybe.

“What sort of pleasure?”

The ever rising brow of pretend disinterest rises once more to join the tone of equal interest. “I thought you weren’t falling for my tricks?”

“I’m a very indecisive person, okay?” Her whole body warms with Regina’s chuckle, but the pointed look she receives after has her sighing before she grumbles, “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

Eyes bright with her amusement, Regina’s mouth quirks. “How kind of you,” she teases, “but oh, where to begin? Extended orgasms? _Denied_ orgasms? A longer, thicker co- ah, but no; any bigger and you’re liable to break something.” Emma flushes, heat suffusing her cheeks. If Regina notices, she doesn’t let on as she continues, “Perhaps a second one? Mmm, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

With the rapid return of the shaft between her thighs, Emma is helpless to do anything besides agree. She didn’t think it would be possible to regret leaving Regina any more than she already does, but here they are, and there _it_ is.

 _Damn it_.

There go her plans for some actual conversation.

“Regina.”

“Problem, dear?”

Glancing from Regina to it, and back again, she murmurs, “Only if you don’t intend to help me.”

 

…

 

_Fuck fuck fuck._

So hot, and wet, and- _fuck_ ; magic is Emma’s new best friend

“Don’t stop,” she begs, only to cry out as Regina does exactly that.

“The enjoyment you get from me eating is oddly worrying.”

Emma gasp-laughs, _groans_ , and arches her back as the wet warmth returns, wrapping around her shaft much in the same way Regina’s mouth wraps around the thick piece of meat on the end of her fork. Somehow, Regina had enchanted her mouth so that Emma would feel precisely _everything_ she does whenever she puts something into it. Emma has already come twice, and is well on her way to a third time if Regina keeps this up.

The way Regina eats is definitely a turn on considering every single thing she does is effortlessly sexy but without the spell, Emma definitely wouldn’t be writhing on her bed, pleading for more from the phantom tongue fluttering against the head of her cock, or the throat she feels closing around it every time Regina swallows.

When the sound of something tearing fills the air and Regina pauses, she whimpers, cursing herself inside her head. “What was that?”

“No idea,” she lies, groaning. She’d just torn the bedding from how hard she’d been gripping it, but it’s not _important_ and if Regina keeps stopping, she’s going to explode, and not in the good way. “Keep going.”

“Hmm.”

Though immediately fearing the worst as Regina lowers her fork and reaches for something out of sight, Emma sucks in a sharp breath, eyes going wide as they fall on the goblet Regina brings back to her terrible, awful mouth. Regina smirks, offering no more than a, “Brace yourself,” before she begins to drink.

The sensation is nothing like Emma has felt before. Her hips snap up and her eyes roll into the back of her head as not one inch of her cock escapes this sudden, barbaric torture. Feeling as though multiple tongues are stroking her all at once, her head swims and her vision blurs, the cry torn from her throat against her will.

Despite her effort to last, she can’t. Once the rhythmic swallowing begins and she realizes Regina isn’t going to stop to take a breath until she finishes every drop of whatever is in that goblet, Emma is coming, harder and more violently than she ever has as her body arches impossibly, painfully, and spurt after spurt of thick, hot pleasure coats her stomach.


	6. Chapter 6

The moment Regina steps foot outside the cottage and spots Graham beside her carriage, her semi-good mood evaporates. It was bad enough her heat had decided to stick around for the minimum of three days, the last thing she wants is to spend the next forty-five minutes in close quarters with the man she’d used for the last fifteen years for lack of any better options.

While she still intends to apologize for her abrupt dismissal of him, and perhaps even explain the reason behind said dismissal, it will be on her terms, and her terms alone. Whatever it is he thinks he’s entitled to from her, he is mistaken, and as beholden to her rule as any other.

Approaching the carriage, her eyes narrow. “I don’t recall summoning you, Captain.”

“My Queen.” He bows low as he replies, “I thought you could do with the company.”

Pausing before him, she waits until he straightens, then leans in, teeth bared in a false smile. “You thought wrong.” Brushing passed him, she climbs up into her carriage. “Enjoy your walk, Captain,” she says before once again closing the door on his face.

As she makes herself comfortable in her seat and the carriage rolls forward, she hears the soft snicker from down below. Gaze snapping to the mirror in her lap, she raises a brow. Emma grins up at her. “That was mean.”

Her mouth twitches. “I do not appreciate assumption,” she reasons. “It would do you well to remember that, Princess.”

Emma chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind, but for the record; I don’t think you’ll mind any of my assumptions when it comes to you.”

Though she is certainly interested, Regina makes a mental note to return to the conversation later tonight, and rolls her eyes. “Behave,” she drawls chidingly. “I’ll have enough to do today without thoughts of you distracting me every five minutes.”

“Joy killer,” Emma retorts, an attractive pout briefly on her lips before she smiles a little too sweetly. Regina squints. “So, that was my substitute, huh?”

_ Ah _ .

She hums. “Mhmm.”

“He sounded cute.”

“He sounded cute,” she repeats, head shaking. She can think of many words to describe her Captain, but  _ cute _ is not one of them. Since Emma is merely fishing, however, she adopts an expression of mild, mock disappointment and drawls, “Really, Princess?”

“Hey,” Emma protests, “I’m allowed to show interest in the guy who's had his hands all over  _ my _ mate.”

Arousal stirring in the pit of her stomach with the claim, Regina shifts subtly and tries to ignore the signs elsewhere. She breathes in slowly, deeply, and closes her eyes as she sits her head back against her seat. “And I?” Voice little more than a husk, she questions, “Shall I take interest in those who have had their hands on  _ my _ mate?”

“Well…” Her eyes flicker open and she glances down into the sheepish expression Emma wears, patient while she sorts through her thoughts to explain the hesitation. “I can only do so much, right?”

Regina considers taking offense at the implication, considers telling Emma she can do a whole lot more than she thinks, that given time, she could become just as dangerous as the Evil Queen. She doesn’t, unsure if Emma  _ knows _ she has magic and simply chooses to pretend she doesn’t, or if she truly doesn’t know, and truly believes herself incapable of so much more. 

It is a discussion they will have in time, but for now, Regina replies simply, amusingly, “I’ve seen you naked, Princess; you could crush a man with those thighs.” 

Not to mention those arms. If it came down to it, she honestly believes Emma could very well fracture a man’s skull merely by ramming his head into her stomach. Naturally, such a thought does not, in any way, shape or form, assist with her  _ not _ thinking about Emma naked. She is going to be distracted, whether Emma is to personally blame or not. 

She groans, “Now look what you’ve done.”

“Here we go,” Emma teases playfully, “I am not responsible for your dirty thoughts.” Ignoring her glare, she adds, “I recall a certain confession the first night we spoke. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe it was something along the lines of;  _ the secret, my dear, isn’t that I have them, but that I never stop _ .”

Glare dissipating as she listens, Regina stares down at her with fondness, not only because Emma does a rather thrilling impersonation of her but because she’d also remembered, word for word, exactly what she had said to her that night. “Colour me impressed,” she murmurs, smiling when Emma winks in response.

“I’m full of surprises.”

After the past three days, Regina has no trouble believing it’s the truth, and she absolutely  _ cannot wait _ to discover all of these surprises herself. Unfortunately, that will have to wait until she’s sorted out this war with that idiot Snow White. If the message she’d received earlier this morning is to be believed, then she is beyond  _ done _ with all of this pretend. If Snow White thinks she can get away with imprisoning her soldiers without retaliation, then Snow White has another thing coming.

“Enough of that,” she says. “We need to discuss my plan for your-”

With a sigh, Emma interjects, “I still don’t care. You said you wouldn’t hurt her; that’s good enough for me. She’s the one being the idiot. I love my parents, but I’m tired of being in the middle of their crap. I don’t even live there for fuck sakes.”

“You may… one day.”

“One day,” she agrees, lips twitching. She exhales softly before letting the small smile blossom and running a hand through her hair. “Just… do what you need to do, okay? It needs to stop. People shouldn’t be dying for her hurt feelings. She refused a truce, twice, when it would have cost nothing other than her pride; whatever you do, it’s her problem to deal with. Okay?”

Relieved, Regina returns the smile and nods. “Okay.”

 

…

  
  


The shock is delicious. Regina forgot to ask Emma if she’d warned her mother but now it is evident that she did not. Snow White had sat behind her wards, believing she was safe, probably planning her next foolish step in this war that none besides her had wanted. She must remember to thank Emma later, perhaps with another magic trick.

Now  _ that _ would be delicious.

“H-how?”

Regina responds as any good evil queen should; teeth bared in something more akin to a grimace than anything one might consider as pleasant as a smile. She has waited a long time to shatter this delusion of safety, not quite knowing what it was that held her back, but knowing that it was  _ something _ . She’d known of Emma even though they’d never met. She would never have assumed that it might be her, but perhaps some higher power- destiny, fate -was on her side for once.

Months ago, that little tug of conscience was all that kept her from utterly destroying the bumbling imbecile who now gapes from her throne. Today- today she must accept that her life will forever be entwined with this nightmare of a woman. If she wishes to end this war without further bloodshed, then she has little choice; she needs to strike a much deeper fear into Snow White before anyone else dies.

Rolling her neck until she hears the dual clicks, she flexes her fingers, and smiles a true smile. “Dear, sweet Snow,” she drawls, smoothly stalking towards the dais upon which the nuisance sits beside her naive, insipid Prince. “Did you honestly think Rumplestiltskin-  _ my mentor _ would protect you?  _ You _ , of all people?”

Just as she raises her boot to take the first stair of the dais, the Prince  _ finally _ jerks from his throne. “Stay back, witch!” Lunging forward, the sword at his side slides from his sheath in a dramatic arch, and its tip glances her cheek.

He, much like his wife, pales instantly. Feeling the blood begin to trickle down her face, Regina hides her surprise behind a cruel smile. “Ah, the shepherd,” she purrs silkily, waving a hand and sending his sword flying as she ascends the stairs. “I was beginning to think you comatose, sitting there with your dead-eyed stare, those famous balls of courage not yet released from the tight grip of your mistress’ hand.”

His mouth opens and closes, bringing to mind a fish plucked from the ocean’s depths. She almost expects him to drop to the floor and start flopping around. At the very least, it is an amusing image and takes her mind off the burning sting developing beneath her eye.

With a sneer, she flicks her wrist and sends him hurtling back into his seat, ensuring there is enough force behind her magic to knock him unconscious. Snow squeaks, immediately jumping to her feet and rushing to his side. Regina rolls her eyes but she waits, feigning interest in her nails while the irritating child checks on her mate.

_ Betas. _ So delicate and easily distracted from what’s important.

When she feels the gaze threatening to drill a hole into her, she glances up and delights in the outrage staring back at her. Smirking, she makes a show of slowly clenching her fist, uninterested in whatever inane speech Snow is working toward as she steals her voice.

“I am not here to listen to you speak.” Relaxing her fist, she wiggles her finger as though attempting to rid herself of a stray hair, or something equally annoying before she continues. “I am not here to negotiate, or offer a third truce. I am, sadly, not here to kill you… or maim you… or torture you even a little bit.” She sighs. It really is a shame after all these years; not being able to do at least  _ one _ of those things. “As you glare, and I drag this out purely for my own entertainment, my soldiers are storming your dungeons, on my orders, with the intent of releasing every one of your prisoners.”

Pausing to savour the look of horror overcoming Snow White’s expression, she smiles. “Between you and me, though-” she says, barely above a whisper. “-I’m not here for that either.” 

Her men will be freed while the rest will be dragged back to her Kingdom where they will be trialed, judged, and executed, circumstances willing. The rest will be offered a place in her Kingdom, safe from the whims and mood swings of an immature Queen too  _ pure _ to do what needs to be done, yet too blinded by her own ego to recognize some of her decisions for what they are; temper tantrums.

All of which is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, for she is here for one reason, and one reason only; to gloat. She will not harm Emma- well, no more than Emma would like her to, but Snow White doesn’t know that. She may not have outright asked Emma permission to use her to instill a healthy sense of fear in her mother, but she has it nonetheless.

_ Do what you need to do, indeed. _

“I would ask why you refused my last offer,” she comments with a casual glance around the room. So certain of her safety, the stupid child didn’t even have guards posted nearby. She grimaces before leveling Snow with her stare. “But we both know why, don’t we? I do wonder what that lovely daughter of yours might think, knowing how little you value her- how little you  _ respect _ her, so little that you would disregard everything she said before you drove her away… again.”

Taking a moment to appreciate the poorly contained fury of Snow’s expression, she chuckles darkly. “We know why,” she repeats. “Luckily for all involved, my death would require a smarter, stronger, more cunning and more creative woman than you.”

A scroll appears in her hand and with a flick of her wrist, it unfurls to reveal the contract she’d had drawn up earlier this afternoon. After a small pause, she explains, “I have humoured you long enough.” She gestures to the room around them. “As you can see, your protection is and has always been nothing more than a farce. I can get to you, Snow White, at any time, and in any place. Had I not found your tantrums amusing, you would have been humiliated, beaten, tortured and killed a long, long time ago.”

Swiftly erasing the distance between them, she claps Snow around the neck and takes them both to their knees, slapping the contract down on the floor in front of her. “I am  _ done _ ,” she growls, “offering you chance after chance to see the error of your ways. Now, we do this  _ my _ way. You will  _ bleed _ , Snow White. Your blood will seal the fate of you and everyone of your subjects. You will agree to everything written here before you, or you and everyone you love- everyone you  _ like _ , will die screaming your name, starting with that sweet little Princess of yours.”

The shudder she feels beneath her grip. A insouciant glance at wide eyes and a quivering lower lip, and she barely resists another eye roll. “Do we have an understanding,  _ daughter? _ ” A quick nod is all the assurance she needs before the dagger materializes in the palm of her hand. She grips the handle and points the blade toward the ceiling. “Much as I would enjoy slicing you open myself, you must be willing.”

When Snow hesitates, Regina sighs before reminding her, “Your death would negate the necessity of the contract.” With a speed she wasn’t aware Snow possessed, multiple drops of blood splatter down onto the parchment. Satisfied, she purrs, “Good girl.”

 

…

 

As she saunters from the castle to rejoin with her men at the gates, Graham sidles up beside her. “All those reported missing are accounted for,” he informs. “A few of them slightly worse for wear, but alive and ready to serve.”

Alive, she notes, is debatable. Almost half of them could pass for corpses with the way they needed to cling to others to keep themselves upright. “Clear the field,” she orders, “and ensure those in need of a healer are seen upon their return.”

She makes a move toward the prisoners held off to one side, only to stiffen when the Captain steps in front of her. “I-”

“ _ I _ am in no mood,” she warns, cutting him off. She wonders how many times they will need to go through this before he takes the hint. It is becoming more and more obvious that Snow isn’t the only one she’s been coddling. “Tonight we will celebrate peace,” she adds, then lowers her voice. “Tomorrow, if you insist on questioning me, we can make time for your execution.”

He steps back, seemingly remembering his place as he drops his gaze, lowers his head and replies dutifully, “Yes, my Queen.”

Eyeing him a moment, she sniffs and turns her attention back to the prisoners. “Which of these will I have the pleasure of beheading in the morning?”

He gestures to where two men and a woman stand separate from the rest. “Just those three, Your Majesty.” 

She studies the three intently. They don’t appear particularly threatening or criminal but despite his recent behaviour, she supposes she’ll trust her Captain’s judgment for now. She is surprised there are so little given there are at least twelve of them in total, and her tone gives away as much when she questions,“Truly?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

Giving them another once-over, she hums. Tomorrow, she will learn more of them but until then, she has more important, and far more interesting, matters to attend to. “Very well. Send them with the heartless; the remainder will travel with the men.”

With a sharp nod, he turns away and begins directing the prisoners. Leaving him to it, she is maybe a foot from her carriage when she hears the shout, and spins on her heel. Her eyes widen at the scene that meets her and she quickly sweeps her hand through the air, freezing both men before one loses his head.

Storming back over to them, she plucks the Captain’s sword from the air, and growls, “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man, whose name she hasn’t yet learned and who had, somehow, disarmed her Captain, spits, “I told him not to touch me.”

Her eyes narrow and she gestures, unfreezing them both before she grabs him by the chin. She tilts her head when his own eyes close, his body shaking, and sniffs the air. Inhaling sharply, she releases him suddenly, the stench of fear so thick she almost gags on it.

“Captain,” she snaps, “do your job. You-” She glares at the man and points to her carriage. “Go, and  _ do not _ mistake this as an opportunity to flee; you will find it significantly more difficult with two broken legs.”

Hanging his head, the man moves fast, practically throwing himself into the carriage when the guard beside the door opens it for him. Sensing the eyes on her, Regina hisses, “I gave you an order, Captain.”

His silence lasts only as long as her patience, her growl barely formed before he replies, “Yes, my Queen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We may diverge from the norm next chapter and have Regina's PoV again so you all can meet the OC.
> 
> Or I may change my mind and make you all wait. Who knows. Thanks to my headache and my strong aversion to planning anything, I sure as hell don't.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added a new tag. This is not entirely a happy chapter.

The carriage ride was silent but Regina hadn’t minded. It gave her time to think about everything that had happened today. More importantly, her new companion became more and more relaxed as the journey went on. He was huddled in the corner at first but by the end, he looked almost normal. She wouldn’t go so far as to say he seemed comfortable, but the air of terror about him had faded significantly enough that mid-way through she stopped feeling as though she needed to clear her throat of the thickness threatening to choke her.

She didn’t ask why he was afraid. She didn’t need to. The look in his eyes had said more to her than words ever could. At some point in this man’s life, someone had mistreated him. It was no surprise, nor should it be. The die had been cast against him before he was born; not just an omega, but a male omega. The humiliations she had endured as a child for what she is would never compare, nor would she want them to.

Before she called in her advisers to discuss the influx of prisoners they were about to receive and what she would be doing with them, she had left orders with her staff to see that the man was bathed, clothed and fed, and once that was done, he was to be delivered to her private study where he would be free to do as he pleased, in the company of two of her most trusted guards.

She only hopes, as she ascends the many stairs to her floor of the Palace, he has remained as resigned to her demands these last three hours as he had been when she’d left him. Her advisers have not left her in the best of moods, and she would hate to have to take out her anger on an innocent bystander. 

Irritating did not  _ begin _ to describe the chaos she left behind once she’d reached her limit and walked out on them, but she had promised herself she could rant later, to Emma; her Princess would enjoy it. Perhaps, fates willing, it would be enough to distract Emma from the fact she used her to threaten her mother, and also the fact she failed to return Snow’s voice before she left.

Though why that might annoy Emma is quite beyond her, she has a feeling, and her feelings rarely ever lead her astray.

Emma will likely demand she return it at once.

Regina shudders. If she is to never set foot in that Kingdom again, it will be too soon.

Minutes later, standing before the two women she’d summoned to guard the omega, she raises her brow. “Trouble?” Both heads shake and she breathes a sigh in relief. “Good.”

One less headache to deal with.

Throwing open the doors to her study in as dramatic a fashion as possible, she sweeps into the room. The man barely glances up at her, curled in her favourite chair and enthralled in some book he no doubt pilfered from one of the many bookshelves lining the walls.

Upon closer inspection, she frowns. Calling him a man may have been a slight miscalculation on her part. Without the ratted hair and filth covering his face, he appears younger than she’d first assumed. “How old are you, boy?”

“Fifteen,” he mumbles, eyes darting to her quickly before returning to the book.

She scowls.  _ Much _ younger than she had assumed. She decides, then and there, that should Emma ask her to return Snow’s voice, she will decline. If she is ever in the same room with that woman again, no matter what promises she has made; she will wring the scrawny little wretches neck until Snow is blue in the face.

Crossing the room to the pitcher of wine on her desk, she fills both goblets, pausing beside him on her way to a chair of her own as she offers him one.

“I’m too y-”

“Nonsense,” she interrupts, “one is never too young for good wine.” He hesitates, but upon meeting her stare, he sets the book down in his lap and gingerly accepts it. “Drink up…” 

“Jonathan,” he offers before bringing the goblet to his mouth and taking a healthy swallow. 

Inclining her head in silent gratitude, she sits. She pretends not to hear his hum of pleasure, and feigns oblivious to the immediate darkening of his cheeks. “Tell me, Jonathan; why were you a prisoner of Snow White?”

He visibly stiffens and the flush spreads, no longer pink in embarrassment, but the red of anger instead. His hand begins to shake, wine sloshing about his cup, before she reaches out to steady it. “I ask not to judge or punish you,” she says calmly. “I seek understanding, nothing more.”

Averting his gaze, he nods after a moment and she releases him, sitting back in her chair. “I…” He squeezes his eyes shut but not before the tears escape. Regina considers backtracking. Whatever it was he did, she’s certain it isn’t worth a death sentence; no child is worth that. “I killed someone.”

Her breath hitches and her eyes widen a split-second before she regains control of herself. Thankfully, she notes, his eyes remain closed while a million and one questions fill her mind.

He doesn’t give her the chance to ask a single one.

“My father,” he continues. He opens his eyes then and she’s careful to keep her expression blank. “He was not… kind, but h- he pretended to be.” He chews his lower lip, tears falling freely now as he looks anywhere and everywhere but at her. “He used to beat me… every day and it was- it was okay, but then he started inviting his friends over and-”

“That’s enough.” He falls silent and she is up, out of her chair, and kneeling before him, words falling from her lips faster than even she can process them. “It wasn’t okay. Not a single thing he did to you was okay, and if you hadn’t killed him already, he would be wishing you had before I was through with him.”

She doesn’t know what she expects when he finally looks at her, but she knows it isn’t the smile he gives her. “I don’t regret it,” he admits. “That’s why she…”

Understanding dawning, she nods. “She is an idiot,” she says and as his smile broadens, she raises a hand and wipes the tears from his cheeks. “A spoiled, insensitive, self-centred little idiot who, one day in the not too distant future, will get what’s coming to her if I have my way.”

And she will. One way or another, Snow  _ will _ suffer for all of this; for putting her on a pedestal, and blaming her when she fell off. For abandoning her only child, and acting entitled rather than  _ grateful _ when that child had returned to her. For all the lies she has told and has yet to tell.

Regina doesn’t know when, or how, and she is loathe to admit that it will not be at her hand, but Snow White  _ will _ be punished.

 

…

 

“Hey.”

Smiling warmly, Regina echoes, “Hey.”

“Exhausted?” She nods, sinking deeper into her chair with a sigh. “Wanna talk about it, or you wanna skip tonight? I can probably find something less important to do. Zelena’s been bugging me about something all day- still don’t know what. I’m getting better at tuning her out.”

Chuckling softly, Regina shakes her head. Just the sound of Emma’s voice already has her feeling lighter and less tired. “The thought of tonight has prevented many murders throughout the day,” she murmurs, “let’s not ruin all my hard work.”

“Alright.” Fingers tapping upon something out of sight, Emma bites her lip, debating something if the look in her eyes is any indication. “We can sit here in silence if you want,” she offers before she grins that dopey grin. “You’re so pretty to look at, I can guarantee at least five minutes before I get bored.”

“Five whole minutes,” Regina drawls, “I had no idea I possessed such beauty.”

Emma snorts. “Wow, tired  _ and _ full of shit; I got lucky tonight.”

Regina smirks. “No,” she disagrees, “you got lucky  _ last night _ .”

As Emma laughs far too uproariously, for nothing is ever  _ that _ funny, Regina feels the warmth in her chest bloom and spread. In the face of that sound, everything else is inconsequential and for those brief few seconds, her complete and utter adoration for this woman is at its highest. 

With the growing intensity of her smile, however, Regina is reminded of her day in the form of her cheek throbbing in protest, and winces.

Her pain does not go unnoticed, not that she’d expected it to. Emma is far too perceptive, she’s learned.

“What’s wrong?” Without word, she turns her head to reveal the angry cut extending from the middle of her cheek to maybe half an inch from her ear. “What the fuck happened?”

Shrugging, she conjures a cool cloth to hand and presses it against the wound. In all honesty, she had forgotten about it until recently. Distracted, first by Graham, then her advisers, and then Jonathan, she’d given the uneven heat in her cheeks very little thought. It wasn’t until roughly an hour ago she decided to try and heal it, and only with the attempt discovered it to be impossible. 

The healers were no less useless than her magic was and had declared she would simply have to let it  _ heal naturally _ ; the incompetent buffoons.

Ignoring the question, she says, “I convinced your mother to sign the contract.”

“She did that to you?”

“No.” She laughs at the very idea. Snow White might be a manipulative, conniving little shrew but her aversion to inflicting violence  _ herself _ is almost as strong as her own self-righteousness. Dismissing the thought, she continues, “I do believe I also have myself a ward.”

“Regina-”

Knowing that tone more intimately than she’d like to admit, she interrupts, “I am not telling because it is not important.” Smiling when Emma scowls, she adds, “I think you’ll like him.”

Emma huffs, frustration contorting her features before she rolls her eyes and growls, “Who?”

“Jonathan, my ward.” Regina grins, teasing, “Do keep up, dear.”

While Emma decides between showing/feigning interest, continuing to ask about the wound or- potentially, given the glare she now wears- burning a hole through the mirror and setting her on fire, Regina begins to tell her about her day. She starts with Snow, skips her little scuffle with David and complains about Graham and her advisers long enough that Emma almost looks amused by the time she brings the conversation back around to Jonathan.

Regina doesn’t stop there. She shares everything, from the moment they met to when they parted tonight after she’d shown him to his room. She leaves out nothing, even confessing she hadn’t spoken to him about becoming her ward, as she’d made the decision only minutes prior to contacting Emma.

When she finishes, Emma opens her mouth but nothing comes out. She closes it after a while, brow furrowing thoughtfully. Regina waits and wonders which piece of the day Emma will attempt to dissect first. There is a lot to process, far more than most days when they do this, and little of it good.

During their talks, she has found that although Emma might not have much to say, her expression often gives away much. Each emotion has their signs; some of them glaring, while others remain subtle to the point Regina sometimes considers questioning their existence altogether. Amusement is easy, anger even more so. Sadness, she realizes, is one she has never seen before but it is there in the dullness of green, red-rimmed eyes. It is, perhaps, the least subtle of them all.

“I’m sorry.” Blinking from the trance she always seems to lose herself in when looking into those eyes, she frowns in confusion. Emma offers the explanation freely. “I know you don’t want to be that person. I’m sorry she forces you to be, and now this… boy. Was she always like this? Was I just blind to it?”

It is with those words Regina discovers the sadness isn’t just in the eyes, and her heart clenches beneath her breast. “Emma-”

“No, seriously,” she continues, “Of course he doesn’t fucking regret it. He killed his abuser! He should be celebrated! Who the fuck would hear a story like that and decide to execute a  _ child _ ?”

Many answers form on the tip of Regina’s tongue but she swallows them all down. Emma is clearly upset, and while a favourite past time, insulting Snow White would likely only upset her further.

Allowing a number of minutes to pass in silence, she eventually comes to a decision. “Perhaps,” she murmurs quietly, “we should speak of something else.”

“No.” Emma shakes her head, expression furious. “No,” she repeats, “I… I need to do something. I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Before she comprehends the words, Emma is gone and Regina is left with nothing more than her own reflection for company.

 

…

 

Regina doesn’t sleep. She tries but before she knows it, night has passed in a haze of confusion, of sadness and later, oddly, nothingness. As the sun announces itself through her bedroom windows, she rises to start the day, and the nothingness lingers. She thinks about nothing, and feels much the same; no confusion or sadness. She is not happy, but nor is she unhappy.

When she does begin to think, she thinks it might be acceptance, and the thought brings her first smile of the day. Emma said she would be back, all she can do is hope it won’t be worse for wear. Perhaps Emma might even have answers to newly acquired questions.

Nodding to herself, satisfied with her chosen dress, she makes her way to the door. She pauses when she opens it, one brow lifting high on her forehead when greeted with the sight of Jonathan sat across the hall.

He peers up at her from the arms around his knees, his grin hidden from her gaze but loud and bright in his own. “I’m hungry.”

She chuckles knowingly before beckoning him with the crook of her finger. He follows, the scuff of his boots against the floor a welcome addition to the early morning sounds of the palace coming to life. She leads him down into the kitchens where breakfast is already being prepared.

“Majesty!” 

“Dorothea,” she drawls in reply, amused by her flustered cook. “Young Jonathan here has informed me of your intent to starve him.”

“That’s not-”

As expected, the woman holds a hand against her chest in feigned horror and interrupts the boy’s protest, “Well, I never.” Seeing his frown, they share a grin before Dorothea bows her head. “Breakfast will be served shortly, Your Majesty. Might I suggest-”

“No need, old woman.” Placing a hand on his shoulder, Regina leads Jonathan from the kitchens. “Come along, dear, we must be seated before we are fed.”

Their meals are served almost as soon as they sit down. Unlike the night before, they don’t talk but the silence is companionable- comfortable. When they are finished, she permits him free reign of the palace once he agrees to think about what he might want to do with his newfound freedom, and is then somehow wrangled into promising to join him for lunch before she is allowed to go about her day.

Meeting with the prisoners is a simple matter of weeding out the riff raff from those who had committed crimes worthy of death. After hearing Jonathan’s tale, she no longer trusted her Captain’s judgment and resigned herself to speaking with each of them before making any decisions.

It became readily apparent she was right to do so upon hearing the story of one man who decided to murder his wife after finding her in bed with another woman. What Graham was thinking in trying to slip that one passed her, she didn’t bother to try and guess.

The execution count returned to three before she gave the order and with a warning to the rest of what would happen to them if they were caught committing crime in  _ her _ Kingdom, she handed them off to her advisers to deal with.

Unfortunately, she realizes a scant few minutes later, today is not a day she holds court and with almost two hours to spare before lunch, her plan to remain busy and distracted until tonight is a bust.

Peering up at the sky with her last remaining shred of hope, she sighs. There’s no chance she’ll be able to distract herself with a ride now, not with those clouds. Rocinante may be the sweetest horse she has ever known, but if she forced him to run in the rain then she’d be dealing with a temperamental beast the next time she tried to take him out.

_ Perhaps Jonathan has grown bored by now. _

She snorts at the thought. A fifteen year old boy- a fifteen year old  _ peasant _ boy with access to a palace  _ and _ permission to snoop wherever his heart desires, bored? After little more than four hours?

_ You are delusional. _

Groaning to herself, she’s about to go back inside when a familiar tingling makes itself known in the palm of her hand. Her grin is instant, relief and happiness coalescing as she flicks her wrist, relocating to her bedroom at the same moment the mirror appears, gripped tight in her fist.

“One week.” She blinks, taken aback. One week? One week for what?

“Em-”

“I can’t stay, I have a shit load of work to do in the meantime, but one week and I’m all yours.” Understanding immediately, her mouth drops open. Emma grins. “We can talk tonight. I…” She stops, and shakes her head. “Uh, tonight.”

And for the second time in less than twelve hours, Emma disappears before Regina can wrap her head around the words.


	8. Chapter 8

The first night of her voyage, Emma remembers why she refuses to travel this way. The overwhelming smell of rum and men who haven’t bathed in who knows how long is enough to turn her stomach, but combine that with the to and fro of the ship beneath her, and she wants to vomit. She wants to vomit _a lot_.

Down below deck, the desire has lessened somewhat. The scent of gunpowder is stronger and more palatable to her nose, but the accursed rocking continues unabated. Her stomach churns, reminding her of how much she _hates_ this, and how stupid she was to believe the thought of being reunited with Regina might lessen said hatred.

With the Hatter indisposed for another two months and Zelena’s deal with the giants only allotting her a single bean each year, she’d had little choice though. This way, she only had to wait four days for her friend to arrive in Oz, and in another three, she will be with her mate again, hopefully making up for the mistake of leaving her to begin with.

The only comfort she has found since the trip began is in the smile from the night before. Regina’s smiles are nothing rare. She offers them freely, and often, and not once has Emma ever questioned their sincerity but last night, the smile Regina gave her when she said they were setting sail in a few hours was so warm and bright, and more intense than any smile Emma has seen to date.

It was the kind of smile one might fall in love with were it not too soon, and were one so inclined toward such things.

“Emma?”

Twitching, not expecting the voice in her ear, she breathes in slowly and raises the arm from across her eyes. The boy she’d met when she boarded the ship- Liam, her friend’s son- hovers above her, grinning down at her like a crazy person. She chuckles, “Hey kid, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Head bobbing, he straightens and as she sits up, he thrusts a bottle at her. “Dad stopped me on my way to my room and told me to give you that.” In his other hand, he’s holding what looks like a root of some kind. “He said you get sick like I used to because you’re not used to the ship.” When she nods, he holds the root out to her as he explains,“If you chew on it, you’ll feel better. Don’t swallow it; it’s gross.”

Grinning, she accepts the root. “Thanks kid.”

“Yup.” Mouth popping on the P, he sways back on his heels and gestures over a shoulder. “Imma go to sleep now.”

Smiling up at him warmly, she thanks him again before wishing him a goodnight. Once he leaves, she sets the bottle down on the floor. Knowing his father as well as she does, it’s most likely rum because Hook believes that with enough of it, rum is the solution to basically every problem, ever.

Lying back down, she rips off a piece of the root with her teeth as she closes her eyes, and hopes for a miracle that doesn’t involve her getting shit-faced and waking up miserable in the morning.

 

…

 

Day two _is_ less miserable than the first but Emma stays in her cabin, not quite ready to inhale the crew up on deck, and more than content to wile away her time reading the book Liam loans her. At the kid’s urging on day three, she finds herself seated in the ship’s scullery. The scents surrounding her are far from unpleasant but rather than inhaling them, she inhales the food that’s in front of her instead. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until Milah, Liam’s mother, was shoving a bowl into her hands and demanding she sit.

Her cheeks are finally cooling from her slight embarrassment earlier. She’d thanked Milah for cooking, only for the woman to laugh in her face. She took pity on her when she noticed her look of confusion, correcting her as she gestured to Liam.

_“I don’t cook, love. I’m useless at it. That’s all him.”_

Now Milah sits beside Emma with a bowl of her own and a small, affectionate smile on her face as she watches her son putter about. Her eyes stray only once, about ten minutes later, when her husband arrives. Hook hovers over Liam, whining theatrically about his stomach and how it’s attempting to eat its way out of his body until the boy sighs and hands him a bowl as well.

When Hook turns and sees them sitting there, he grins as he wanders over. He pauses beside Milah and kisses her cheek, then moves to the stool beside Emma and drops down onto it ungracefully. “Green no longer your colour, Princess?”

Jerking forward as he slaps her on the back, Emma rolls her eyes and mumbles around her mouthful of stew, “Your son is my hero.”

Glancing over at the kid, his grin softens and Hook nods. “Mine too.”

After breakfast, he convinces her to come up on deck. She has to admit it’s not as terrible as she remembers but at the same time, she wonders if she might have missed the leg of their journey where they’d stopped somewhere long enough for everyone to bathe because sick or otherwise, there is no way she had imagined that stench.

Wonderings aside, it’s nice to finally be able to breath in the fresh air without wanting to decorate the ship with the last thing she ate, and she enjoys the warmth of the sun beating down on her back.

Hearing footsteps, she pulls herself up from hanging halfway over the side of the ship just in time for Milah to join and inform her, “Our dim-witted captain would like you to know that we’ll reach the forest in a couple of hours.”

Emma stifles her laugh and inclines her head. “You’re from there, right? I think he mentioned it once or twice.”

“During one of his fanciful tales, I imagine.”

“I remember it as one of his more bloodier ones-” she corrects, side-eying the woman. “-but he definitely knows how to tell a story with flare.”

The first, and what she had thought would be the last, time he took her to the Enchanted Forest, he’d spent almost all of the journey distracting her with stories of his adventures. She doesn’t remember all of them, given it was almost eight years ago, but she recalls that one rather vividly considering it had lead to the man losing his hand to Milah’s, at the time, jilted husband.

Recalling the specifics, Emma frowns. “Is it going to be… safe, for you? To be back, I mean.”

Milah shrugs. “We won’t be staying long but if the rumours are to be believed, my former husband has long since moved on.”

“Well that’s… uh, good?” When all that gets her is a raised eyebrow, Emma chuckles. “Yeah, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not all that great at small talk.”

“Mmm. Neither am I, truthfully.” Looking her up and down, Milah sighs. “You seem like the kind of person who appreciates honesty, so I’ll simply come right out and confess; I came over here at the urging of the idiot savant. He seems to think we would get along, given the chance.”

“I do,” Emma admits. She has always valued honesty above all else, which is why she is so very pissed with her mother. Breathing a sigh of her own, she says, “He’s probably right- not that we should tell him that. He’s already plenty in love with himself as is.”

Milah laughs, the delight obvious in the way her eyes brighten. “Agreed.”

Grinning, Emma nods and continues, “Anyway… guess I kind of wasted all the time we might have had getting to know each other while I hid away. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Milah waves dismissively. “As I said, we have hours yet.”

 

…

 

As was the case with another dark-haired, dark-eyed woman, conversation with Milah, Emma discovered, was far simpler than she dared hope. She was starting to think she might have a type; the dark, sarcastic, hilariously insulting with a penchant for violence given enough cause, type. She was fortunate Milah was not only an Alpha, but also married, and that was to say nothing of the other woman who matched her type, who despite the past month and a half, still scared the shit out of Emma and who, also, she adored beyond reason... or sanity.

Conversation was easy between them and with the added alcohol Liam brought up to them before he’d wandered off to bed, it only became easier. Milah wasn’t the sort who pried but after sharing her own take on how her meeting Hook for the first time went, Emma found herself opening up and sharing her own tale about finding her mate, though, with Regina’s reputation, she was careful to never mention her by name.

When night came, she barely noticed. It wasn’t until Hook sidled up to them and pointed out the telling glow of torchlight in the distance that she realized just how close she was to seeing Regina again, and her breath hitched.

“Nervous?” She nods and Milah smiles as she reaches over and pats her on the back. “If what you’ve told me is true, then I can’t say you don’t have reason.”

Emma shakes her head. Honesty, it turns out, is the woman’s forte and while it doesn’t exactly help, she appreciates it nonetheless. “Yeah,” she breathes on a puff of laughter. “At this point, I’m kind of just hoping she doesn’t kill me immediately.”

“I wouldn’t blame her,” Milah teases. “I still can’t believe you left without even kissing her.”

Emma laughs again. She hadn’t told her about the shirt. She tries not to think about it, really. Thinking about it leads to fantasizing about it, and considering how much of a tease Milah is with what she _does_ know- well. There was no need to give the woman even more ammunition. “Trust me,” she says, “I hate myself enough for that; you don’t need to rub it in.”

“Who said anything about need?” Milah retorts before they share a grin. “From what you’ve told me,” she adds, “I’d say all you need to do is brace yourself to be molested as soon as she sees you, and you’ll both be golden.”

 _Here’s hoping_.

Saving her from saying the thought aloud, Hook questions with feigned innocence, “Did I hear mention of molestation?”

Milah rolls her eyes and drawls, “That _would_ be the only thing you heard.”

“What can I say? I’m a simple man, with simple tastes.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” she assures him, smirking.

Their banter eases Emma’s nervousness and after some time has passed, time in which she actually has to stand there and watch them gaze fondly at one another, she questions wryly, “Shall I leave you two alone?”

The answer comes slowly, though playfully, as Milah turns her attention from her husband and onto Emma. She smiles, coy, and teases, “You could join us.”

Emma grins. “I’m thinking he has enough trouble with you,” she replies, zero consideration required. “Together, we’d probably kill him.”

Nodding her approval, Milah admits, “He was right; I do like you.”

“Ha, bloody ha.” Hook scoffs, offering them both a glare as he makes his way back across the deck to the helm. “I have half a mind to toss you both overboard.”

“You have half a mind regardless,” Milah mumbles, much to Emma’s amusement as she snorts.

Milah smiles at her before she wanders back below deck, a simple, “A pleasure, love,” casually tossed over a shoulder. Alone with her thoughts, Emma chews at the inside of her cheek as her mind turns to Regina and her eyes drift to the dock quickly looming before them. She had given little to no thought to what she was doing. That night, a little over a week ago, she’d made a decision and stuck to it. She didn’t think about it, didn’t once reconsider it, and now she’s here. Almost there.

Taking a breath, she releases it slowly. She hadn’t been nervous. Not once. She knows it will pass, just like it had the first night they spoke. _When_ is the question with zero inkling for an answer.

She wonders what Regina will be like after three days of not speaking to her, and grins because _crazed_ is most likely apt. She remembers one night, when Regina had claimed her _late_ . There had been no reasoning with her, no excuse good enough, and definitely _no_ apologies. Regina hates apologies, she’s discovered, especially of the verbal variety.

 _Why tell, when you can show?_ She showed. Often, and without shame.

“What are you waiting for, Princess?”

Startled, her head snaps up and she glances around. A thud draws her gaze to the gangplank as it sets in place. She swallows thickly. “Oh.”

“Second thoughts?” She shakes her head. “You’ll feel better when you see her.”

Surprised, she dares a look at her friend and croaks, “You think?”

“I know,” Hook replies before he jerks his chin in the direction Milah had disappeared. “Don’t let her fool you; she misses me when I’m gone.” He grins but she can see the affection- the love he has for his wife, and before long, it turns into a smile; small, soft and adoring. “When we’re apart, I would give my other hand to see her roll her eyes at me.”

Emma laughs suddenly, nodding her understanding. It’s not the same. They still barely know each other and outside of that night at the inn, they’ve never been in the same room together. The love isn’t there, not yet, but that, the _longing_ , has been there from day one. She’s lost count of how many times she’s almost lost something- a finger, a whole hand. Once, she’d almost lost a toe- because she’d remembered something about Regina, and _missed_ it.

It completely ruined her whole day and only a teasing smirk, a snappish remark or a playful drawl could make it better again.

She doesn’t miss things. She leaves because she needs to, because it’s _safer_. She knows she’ll be back and that time away will be good for her. It reminds her that despite her parents wishes, she isn’t a Princess and she is so much more comfortable at home, in Oz, where she’s not treated as something special even though their Queen thinks of her as a sister. She’s Emma; nothing more, nothing less.

When she’s here, she misses Oz.

When she’s in Oz, she missed nothing, and no one.

She misses Regina, even now when she’s so, so close.

“Go get her, Princess.”

 

…

 

And so she does, nervousness be damned.

For a brief, almost indiscernible moment, she considers grabbing something to drink. The tavern is right there as she steps off the dock, tempting her with the soft glow of candlelight and some form of music she can’t quite make out. It looks and sounds inviting, but she knows from experience that it’s not. Chances are, as soon as she walks through the doors, she’ll be overwhelmed, and not just by the scent of others, stale beer and piss. If it’s anything like the White Kingdom, or even Oz, someone will eventually get too drunk, start shouting, and before anyone knows what’s going on, there’ll be a fight and _someone_ , or a lot of someones, will end up behind bars before morning.

With the way she’s feeling, she wouldn’t be surprised if one of those someones was her, and so she walks right passed. At any other time, and in any other place, she’d have given into the temptation, overwhelmed or otherwise. As cathartic as fighting can sometimes be though, Regina is waiting for her and although she isn’t quite the bloodthirsty madwoman her mother made the Evil Queen out to be, Emma would only end up pitying whoever else was involved.

The palace comes into view as she wanders through the mostly deserted marketplace, ominously tall yet surprisingly light. Neither of the guards at the gate pay her any attention but a third appears from nowhere before she reaches the stairs. They don’t speak, and it’s kind of creepy, but not long after they fall into step beside her, she realizes she’s being led. When she tries to go straight through to where she expects to find the throne room, an arm bars her way and when she glances down, the hand attached to it indicates she should turn left. She goes left and finds another set of stairs shortly after.

As she ascends, the telling clink of steel boots behind her lets her know her silent escort remains.

It seems like hours before she’s stopped again. This time, it’s with a hand on her shoulder while another gestures to a pair of doors. She frowns as they open, as if coaxed by magic.

Her eyes widen in realization a split second before she’s propelled into the room beyond. The doors slam shut as she spins on her heel, and _finally_ her escort speaks. “You certainly took your time.”

Biting her lip, she watches as Regina removes her helm. Their eyes meet and Emma’s heart skips a beat. “Three days,” she murmurs, “and I’d somehow forgotten how breathtaking  you are.”

Regina tosses the helm off to the side and saunters closer. “What utter tripe,” she teases before flicking her wrist and ridding herself of the rest of her armour. “Had I known to expect such drivel, I’d have told you to stay home.”

She pauses, as though she believes feigning hesitation will lend credence to her words. Emma rolls her eyes, then lunges, capturing her around the waist. “You are so full of shit,” she says as Regina throws back her head and laughs.

Savouring the sound, Emma gazes at the long, smooth column of her throat, a new but familiar temptation filling her, a temptation far more intense, far superior to her last. She bows her head, pressing her mouth against warm, soft skin. She hears the faint hitch of breath right before there’s a hand on her head, fingers threading through her hair.

A gentle tug and she doesn’t pause to think or even question if this is what Regina wants as she drags lips up along the length of her throat, teeth grazing against a chin before she comes to full, pouty lips, and claims them with a kiss.


	9. Chapter 9

Having craved this very thing since the moment she spied Emma down in the market, Regina moans and clings to her tightly. The first brush of her lips was everything she’d hoped for but when Emma kisses her, it’s more than she expects- more than she can stand. Despite her thoughts, threats and promises to the contrary, she didn’t think it would happen so soon. She expected hesitation, or teasing, or _something_ that would drive her to making the first move because although Emma certainly isn’t _shy_ , she is often reserved, requiring at least a little convincing before she’ll give in and give her what she wants.

As their mouths move against each other, she cards one hand through Emma’s hair while gripping her hip with the other. The kiss is electric but languid, warm and soft, and _full_. It is everything she imagined and more, impossibly more. Emma kisses as though there is nothing in this world or any other she would rather do, and Regina is genuinely helpless to do anything other than surrender to it.

When a tongue slides along her lower lip, she parts them both and groans as Emma licks into her mouth. She can taste the faint trace of something sweet and something else, something bitter but before she can become curious enough to give up the kiss to question it, she gives it up with a gasp instead, feeling the hardness between her legs, and bucking into it.

She expects Emma to flush, to pull back with, perhaps, a sputtered, half-hearted apology of some kind, but no; Emma does nothing of the sort. _Thankfully._ Hands grip her hips and Emma forces her back until she’s flat against the wall with a whimper lodged somewhere deep in her throat, trapped by Emma’s tongue as she shoves it back into her mouth.

This kiss is anything but languid, or soft, or warm. Quick, dirty and _hot_ , Emma is practically fucking her mouth by the time Regina hooks a leg around her thigh. She rubs against the stiffness pressed firmly against her center and swallows the rumbling moan that erupts from Emma’s chest.

Regina reaches down and palms the cheeks of her ass in a desperate attempt to somehow pull her closer. The futility of it has her tearing their mouths apart, the suggestion for them to move to the bed, preferably without all of these clothes in the way, on the tip of her tongue. The words disappear as Emma’s mouth returns to her neck and her head thumps back against the wall.

At this rate, she’s going to come fully clothed, and for the first time in her life.

Not liking the thought, at all, she releases her grip on Emma’s wonderfully taut backside and grabs a fistful of hair. She tugs, not expecting the moan that follows, and laughs, surprised and breathless.

_So much for that idea._

“Need you,” Emma murmurs, raking teeth over her pulse point.

Her clit twitches and the wetness increases between her legs. Regina hums, softening her touch and stroking through Emma’s hair. “And I you-” she replies, tilting her head forward. “-but would you not be more comfortable in a bed?”

“Too far.”

When Emma sucks on her neck and thrusts against her, Regina inhales sharply as unadulterated want rushes through her. She squeezes her eyes shut and groans, “At least take off your pants and let that monster breath before you suffocate the poor thing.” Feeling Emma stiffen, her eyes fly open and upon reading her expression, she growls, “Don’t you dare.”

She didn’t go through all of _that_ for Emma to stop _now_.

“But-”

“No,” she interrupts, firming the grip on her hair once more. She tugs a little more roughly and watches, pleased, as Emma’s lids flutter and her nostrils flare. “No buts,” she purrs, leaning in and capturing her lower lip between teeth. She bites down, hard, then sucks away the sting before she husks, “Do you want to fuck me, _Em-ma_?”

Her body’s response is an immediate shudder, no doubt reacting to the swear as Emma has so beautifully done in the past. The verbal response is slower but it comes on the end of a moan, adding fuel to the fire growing in the pit of her stomach. “So fucking much.”

Chuckling, Regina tugs again and says, “Then _fuck me_ , you idiot.”

“Okay.”

Assuming Emma will take her to bed before they continue, she begins to lower her leg. Emma stops her, a hand on her knee. “Here,” she says, silencing her protests with another kiss. “Magic them off,” she adds, breath ghosting across her mouth as she slides the hand around to her ass and squeezes. “I’ll hold you, just let me in.”

Speechless, Regina raises her hand and flicks her wrist, going one step further and rendering them both naked. As soon as their clothes are gone, Emma reclaims her mouth, seemingly determined to touch every inch of her skin. Her hands are everywhere; stroking her thighs, her hips before caressing up her sides and groping her breasts.

Regina groans and arches her back, breaking the kiss once again. Undeterred, Emma kisses down her neck and descends onto her breasts. She licks and sucks at one before she covers it with her hand, pinching and rolling the nipple between her thumb and forefinger as she moves to the other and takes it into her mouth.

“Oh.” Emma _really_ likes to use her teeth, it seems. Regina’s nipple _throbs_ beneath the ministrations of the tongue trying to soothe it, though it in no way compares to the throbbing of her cunt when long, slim fingers slip into her folds, playing in the slick heat they find before drawing it up to circle her clit. “Oh yes.”

Before long, her head is swimming with pleasure, breathing laboured as she rocks against Emma’s hand, coating it with even more of her heat, letting Emma build her up and take her higher until she snaps, crying out with her release.

She’s only just coming down from her high when she feels those fingers slide down along her slit and enter her. Hard and fast, Emma thrusts into her over and over, building her up even more quickly than before. She’s given up on her breasts in favour of murmured encouragements, sucking the length of her collarbones in between soft words; demands and endearments falling from her lips like a well-rehearsed prayer.

The second release hits Regina with all the power of a spell gone wrong, or very _very_ right, and this time Emma doesn’t even give her the courtesy of coming down before she yanks the hand out from between her thighs and forces her to turn around, slamming her front against the wall. Moaning at the rough treatment, Regina parts her legs without needing to be asked, hoping and eager to be filled in the way she’s wanted ever since she’d set her sights on Emma’s impressive cock.

Emma doesn’t disappoint. Clutching her hips in a vice-like grip, she drives into her from behind, splitting her open and filling her in the most exquisite way. Regina’s breath leaves her in a rush and Emma doesn’t wait for her to adjust. She doesn’t need to; Regina is soaked, pliable and more than willing, gasping as Emma clamps down on her shoulder with teeth and begins pounding into her.

Emma is relentless and in no time at all, Regina is back on that edge, teetering. None of the other alphas had ever been like this. They were too scared. More often than not, she’d end up taking matters into her own hands, riding them until she was exhausted, then throwing them out when she was done with them.

Graham was only one among many, and even he had never ravished her quite so thoroughly. He could sometimes be rough, but only at her urging. He would never have dared _force_ her- would never have _taken_ her like this. She doubts she would have even enjoyed it if he had tried.

A hard jerk of Emma’s hips drags her back to the present before an arm winds around her waist, pulling her back from the wall. A hand glides up her stomach, fingers curling around her throat, tipping her head back as Emma breathes into her ear, “I’m going to come- fill you up.”

Moaning, Regina reaches between her legs. She rubs frantically at her clit and with one final thrust of Emma’s hips, she’s pulled over the edge. Pulse after powerful pulse of thick, hot come splashes against her inner walls, prolonging her orgasm as she flutters around Emma’s length, eagerly milking the shaft of every drop.

When Emma has given her all she can and their shared release begins to trickle down her inner thighs, Regina slumps. True to her word, Emma holds on, fingers trailing down her throat and between her breasts before the arm joins the one already at her waist and soft lips settle against her shoulder.

As the minutes pass, Emma’s beautiful cock disappears, and the strength slowly returns to her limbs, Regina sighs, content- sated. Emma nuzzles her neck, then her jaw when she fails to acknowledge it, and she turns her head, humming as her lips are captured  in a kiss that would serve to arouse her all over again if she weren’t already completely spent.

“Stop that,” she grumbles once they part, tone not nearly as chiding as she’d have liked.

Emma chuckles and kisses the corner of her mouth. “How do you feel?”

“Like every bone in my body has suddenly dissolved,” she replies before she groans and somehow manages to turn in their embrace. “If you let me go, I fear I may never recover.”

Emma smirks. “Are you always this dramatic after sex?”

Grinning, Regina wriggles free of her, pecking her on the nose before she steps out from between Emma and the wall. “Stick around,” she says, “and maybe you’ll find out.”

 

…

 

Waking surrounded by an unfamiliar warmth, Regina lies still for a while, bathing in the feel of soft skin against her back and the whisper of slow, easy breathes blowing gently across her neck. She had been hesitant last night after their bath when Emma crawled into bed and wrapped around her from behind. She has never shared her bed before, not even when she was married, and she has certainly never _cuddled_ any of the people she’s been with. She wasn’t convinced she’d like it, but lying here with the weight of Emma’s arm across her hip, their legs entwined and- she shifts subtly, and grins ever so slightly- with the evidence Emma said she would gladly provide of how her mornings always begin nestled between her thighs, her doubts have been laid to rest.

She likes it. Possibly _loves_ it, even.

Eyes closed, she raises her leg just enough to press her hips back into Emma’s groin, then lowers it again. She’s already slick from the thought of waking like this every morning, their naked bodies tangled together and with Emma already so very ready to take good care of her, to help start her day right and give her something much more pleasant to think about while she’s dealing with the irritating responsibilities that come with being Queen.

It occurs to her in the moment that, as Queen, she could have this everyday, all day, if she so desired, and she shudders almost violently before the arm across her hip curls and the body behind her shifts, drawing closer as a hand burrows beneath her. She bites her lip. She is not in the least bit cold, as she suspects Emma’s unconscious mind seems to think, but her desire momentarily fades in place of the affection that fills her.

Placing her hand on the arm around her stomach, she caresses it softly- slowly while she waits for the desire to return. She didn’t think she was wrong but it is nice to have confirmation about Emma, about how perfectly suited they are as mates. Even in sleep, Emma’s instinct is to try and take care of her. She has never needed anyone to, never really _wanted_ anyone to, but she’s not surprised by the fact Emma trying, albeit wrongfully, does nothing more than bring light to the places within that have been shrouded in darkness for far too long.

It is these inner thoughts and her acceptance of them that ultimately brings the desire back. She may not have _wanted_ or _needed_ , but she wants and needs Emma, in whatever way Emma will allow, with or without the absences in between.

As she caresses back down to Emma’s wrist, she turns her attention back to the shaft waiting so patiently between her thighs and reaches down passed Emma’s arm. She parts her legs just enough to fit her hand between them, fingers gliding along its length, feeling it twitch before she pushes it more firmly against her and begins rolling her hips.

If not for her memories of last night, she would be appalled by how quickly the warmth in her stomach grows from a low, flickering flame to a raging fire that threatens to set her alight. With the memories, however, she welcomes the heat licking at her flesh, and nearly comes right then when she feels an answering thrust.

“Please.”

It slips out. She doesn’t mean for it to, but it does and she can’t bring herself to care because Emma is suddenly awake and forcing her onto her stomach. She aches when the cock is taken from her hand, but groans, biting into the pillow beneath her head as Emma feeds it to her, inch by glorious inch until she’s buried to the hilt and pinning her to the bed.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” A tongue flicks the lobe of her ear before she can find the words to respond. Emma gives an experimental jog of her hips and Regina moans, thrusting back against her. “Mmm. You have no idea how good you feel,” Emma purrs, nipping down her neck and across her shoulders. “So hot... and wet... and _mine_.”

Stomach clenching, Regina squirms, gasping softly as her nipples stiffen to fine points and rub against the bedding beneath her. Emma kisses the spot between her shoulder blades, fingers skating along her ribs, down her side and over her hip to her thigh. She guides her leg back, sliding her own underneath and opening Regina up, drawing a gasping moan as her cock sinks even deeper.

Unlike the night before, Emma allows her a moment to adjust before she starts to move. Her strokes are slow but long and deep, hitting Regina in all of the right places, in all of the right ways, and rather than it only being their second time, it feels as if they’ve been fucking their entire lives.

Tucking her foot behind Emma’s knee, Regina reaches for the hand on her thigh and drags it up to her chest. Her nipples ache for something wet and warm but in their position, she decides Emma’s fingers will have to do. She hums her pleasure as Emma cups her breast, thumb teasingly swiping at the hardened nub as Emma nuzzles her neck in search of her pulse.

Regina whimpers when she feels the sharp sting of teeth biting into her flesh. It’s not enough for a mating mark but she knows with a little more pressure it could be, and the thought arouses her, making her wetter.

Emma picks up the pace, her thrusts a little faster- a little harder, but jerkier. Regina groans, the knowledge that she must be close seeping in through the haze of pleasure clouding her mind. She starts to squeeze down around Emma’s shaft, clenching rhythmically, hoping to coax the release from her, wanting it more than she’s ever wanted anything.

She freezes, the sudden growl against her neck shocking her before her mouth dries and the last of the moisture travels down between her thighs. She _remembers_ as those teeth release her flesh that Emma is not like other alphas, the realization of what Emma wants as she looses another growl; swift and _thrilling_.

Tipping her head back, she bares as much of her throat as she can, breath quickening in anticipation. Emma noses up under her jaw, inhaling with a groan, then biting down viciously. Regina cries out, surprise and pleasure uniting as one when it’s her own release shuddering through her and Emma begins ruthlessly pounding into her, not only drawing out her orgasm but sending her headlong into the next.

Emma follows not far behind, hips snapping hard against her ass before she comes, each thrust slower than the next until Regina is swollen with her seed and Emma slumps, boneless on top of her.

 

…

 

Regina wakens with a start. “Hey.” She raises her head, blinking blearily. Emma slowly comes into focus, an idiotic but ever so annoyingly endearing grin on her face. “Nice nap?”

Regina rolls her eyes, mouth open in retort before she’s distracted by the unexpected tingling in her hand. She glances over at it and wriggles her fingers, then looks back at Emma in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“My hand is…” Frowning, she shakes her head. She lies back down and conjures the mirror she no longer has need of, running her finger over the glass before she passes it to Emma with a disinterested, “It’s for you.”

“Uh... oh- hey Z.”

“Emma, were my eyes playing tricks on me, or was that...”

“Regina?” She offers after a stretch of silence that lasts far too long in Regina’s opinion.

“The Evil Queen.”

“I would really rather you don’t call her that,” she replies as Regina bristles. Emma strokes her back, soothing her as she drawls, “Pretty sure it’s not the name her mother gave her.”

There’s a huff, and then, “You failed to mention-”

“Yeah,” she interrupts, voice barely more than a growl. “I did.”

“Right. Well.” Another silence, much briefer than the first, pervades before there’s a sniff and Zelena demands, “Give the mirror back to her, and get out.”

“Um, I don’t think...”

As she trails off, Regina sighs and picks up after her. “I have no interest in speaking to…” Feigning forgetfulness, she finishes, “Whoever you are.”

“Right. That.” Less than a minute later, fingers tapping her spine, Regina cocks her head back. Emma is looking down at her, brow furrowed. “I think she’s serious.”

“And why should I care, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” she admits, mouth quirking as she reasons,“but there’s always the possibility you should and we just don’t know it yet?”

That, Regina concedes, is a point. Not a particularly compelling point, but a point. “Fine,” she says, rolling off of Emma and on to her back. “Give it here.” She holds out her hand and as Emma passes it back to her, she waves her other hand, clothing her as she says, “Make yourself useful and take Jonathan down to breakfast- tell the cook she doesn’t need to wait.”

Sitting up with a sigh, Emma leans over and kisses her cheek before she rises from the bed.  “You do realize I have no idea where anything is, yeah?”

She gestures dismissively. “Jonathan will be outside the door.”

“He will?” Walking over to the door, Emma pulls it open and, as has been the case since Regina brought him home, Jonathan leans against the wall across the hall. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hi?”

Hearing the uncertainty in his voice, Regina tears her gaze from the oddly familiar woman in the mirror. She smiles, reading the _who the hell is this?_ expression that’s written clear across his face. She chuckles and introduces them. “Emma, Jonathan. Jonathan, Emma.”

“Ohhh.” His grin toothy and wide, he says, “You can call me Jon, or J.”

Regina smirks. He’d said the same to her that night in the study. She has a feeling Emma will be far more inclined to take him up on the offer.

“Good.” Glancing back at her, Emma winks before stepping through the door and closing it behind her, the rest of her words faint but audible. “Cause your name is way too long to say more than once… a week.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than usual for reasons no one gives a toss about. Sorry. Moving on.

From the way Regina talked of him, Emma was under the impression that Jonathan was the quiet type. This is quickly proven wrong as they wander the many twisting corridors supposedly leading them to the kitchens. He keeps asking her questions but doesn’t actually pause long enough for her to answer him. She learns fairly fast that it isn’t because he’s not genuinely interested, but because his mind appears to come up with answers all on its own, often before she’s processed the question in its entirety.

It fascinates her because he also speaks the answers out loud and, so far, she hasn’t had to correct any of them; Oz  _ is _ different from the Enchanted Forest, traveling between worlds  _ is _ a hassle and yes, living with a Queen who bosses you about all the time  _ can _ be annoying.

The last one is incredibly amusing, not only because she knows he’s talking about Regina but because there are guards, everywhere, and she can tell by the look on the faces of those she can see as they pass that they, like her, are also trying to stop themselves from laughing.

Knowing Regina, it would not be  _ too _ far-fetched to assume she has eyes and ears everywhere. Emma is smart enough to know the fact Jonathan doesn’t seem to mind in no way guarantees her safety. If she laughs and it gets back to Regina, who might for the sheer pleasure of it decide to punish her because of it, then it just isn’t worth the risk, especially if said risk pertains to what they did last night, and again this morning.

She can definitely see herself getting used to waking up that way every day.

“Who’s this?”

Emma stops, blinking the thought away. The scene that awaits her is surprising. She doesn’t recall Jonathan moving in front of her but here he stands, exuding a quiet confidence as he stares down Graham. She’d recognized his voice immediately, the only other time she’d heard it being the day Regina dismissed him and made him walk home. 

If the vaguely sickly sweet scent emanating from Jonathan is any indication, then he’s apparently protecting her from someone he deems a threat. “This is Emma,” he says, “the Queen’s  _ mate _ .”

Her chest warms and she bites the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling. Whatever she’d done to prove herself worthy of his protection, she isn’t going to question it.

“Is that right?”

Her eyes dart from the back of his head to meet the Captain’s gaze as it zeroes in on her neck. She waits a respectable number of seconds before she loses her patience and drawls, “Can I help you with something?”

“Merely curious,” he replies, smirking as he raises a brow. “It’s a bold claim for someone not wearing her mark.”

“A claim, you’ll note, I wasn’t the one to make,” she counters. She rolls her eyes before she adds, “Not that it would be any of your business if I had.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He takes a step forward but with Jonathan in the way, he can only get so close. His scent, which had only been faint until now, flares, heavy and cloying. “Anyone involved with the Queen is a matter of security, and as the Captain of her Guard; her safety is my top concern.”

She snorts. “Please, the only thing you’re concerned with is who she decided to replace you with.” She holds out her arms. “Here I am.” Arms falling back to her sides, she says, “Now that we’ve met, feel free to go posture elsewhere,  _ Captain _ . I’ve stepped on bugs more intimidating than you.”

He tries to cover the flash of surprise in his eyes with a laugh before he questions, “You think I’m trying to intimidate you?”

“It’s kind of hard to miss, what with the stink coming off of you.”

“I don’t need to intimidate you.” He chuckles. “You said it yourself; you’re nothing more than a replacement.” Stepping back, he looks smug but Emma only spares him a glance, eyes drawn across his shoulder to the swirl of purple smoke behind him. “Sooner or later, she’ll get tired of you-”

“Who will get tired of her?” He jumps, his mouth falling open as he turns on his heel, sputtering as he comes face to face with a thoroughly  _ pissed off _ Regina. “Harassing my mate already, Captain?” She tsks. “You could have at least let her eat first.”

“Maj-”

She cuts him off with a growl. “I don’t want to hear it.” Emma’s stomach does a little flip at the anger lacing her tone. “When the Guard changes at the end of the week, I want you stationed elsewhere. Perhaps with some time away, you’ll rediscover your sense and remember your place.”

“But...”

His mouth closes with an unnaturally loud click and he bends backwards, attempting to retreat as she leans in with a sneer. “One more word and I’ll demote you,” she threatens. “Leave my sight, and do not enter it again unless I explicitly state otherwise.” 

He doesn’t hesitate for a second. His fist hits his chest in some form of salute, and then he’s quickly moving around her. Emma tilts her head to watch him scurry away with his tail between his legs. “Do you always take your time getting to places, or is it only when I’m expecting you?”

Jonathan protests, “It’s not her fault. Graham stopped us.”

“Yes, I assumed he might given the chance… Emma?”

She starts. “I’m fine.” She isn’t fine. She’s still weirdly turned on after watching Regina command obedience from Graham, and she doesn’t have a clue what to do with the fact. Clearing her throat and avoiding their stares, she asks, “Are we going to eat?”

“If you’re finished dawdling,” Regina teases, “certainly.”

“Suck m-”

“Don’t be crude, there is a child present.” Emma huffs while watching said child roll his eyes at them and begin to make his way down the hall. Agreeing with the sentiment, she decides to follow him but Regina grabs her wrist as she tries to pass her, chuckling as she leans in and murmurs, “But maybe later.”

 

…

 

After breakfast, they take a walk around the palace grounds. Jonathan wanders ahead of them with one of Regina’s guards, chatting away like he hasn’t a care in the world. Emma can’t make out anything either of them are saying, but in truth, she isn’t trying all that hard to begin with. There’s a lot of laughter and nudging back and forth going on, but her eyes are mostly for Regina, enthralled with the small but brilliant smile she wears that makes her look about ten years younger.

As if the woman weren’t ridiculously attractive already.

“You two looked rather cozy when I arrived.”

She snorts. Regina has been silent until now. They talked a little while they ate but it was mostly about her trip from Oz, and of course she ended up sidetracked from even that when Jonathan overheard her mention her friend the pirate. Once they started talking about Killian and his family, Regina had wandered off into her own thoughts, apparently not nearly as interested in her friends.

“We can talk about that,” she says, “just as soon as you tell me what Z wanted.”

“She wanted you to know she would be away for a few days. She didn’t specify where.” Emma raises a brow. Zelena never explains. She’d expect nothing less. However, Regina knows damn well that isn’t what she meant, which is evident by her smirk. “Wondering if she threatened to chop me up into little pieces if I even thought about harming a single hair on your pretty little head?”

“No, actually.” At her questioning look, Emma explains, “If that was all she wanted, she’d have let me stay because she enjoys embarrassing me.”

Regina hums. “The rest wasn’t anything important,” she replies dismissively. “I’m not sure why you think it would be.”

Emma shakes her head. If the fact Zelena hadn’t had her kicked out of the room wasn’t telling enough, the fact Regina is now  _ lying _ about it is. “You work fast.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means…” She sighs. This is not how she wanted their first day together to begin, but it appears as though she has no choice. “It means I haven’t been here a full day yet, and you’re already keeping things from me.”

She catches the eye roll from the corner of her eye and stops. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

It takes Regina a second to realize she’s no longer beside her before she stops too and turns around. Emma replies then, “Melodramatic would be comparing you to my mother.”

A look of distaste crosses her expression. “Well that was uncalled for.”

“I said  _ would _ be. It would also be grossly inaccurate, but then if I were being melodramatic, I wouldn’t much care for accuracy, would I?” Regina’s mouth twitches and Emma groans because  _ of course _ Regina isn’t taking her seriously, and  _ of course _ she’d be getting herself all worked up for nothing. “Are you always going to be this much of a pain in the ass?”

Grinning, Regina saunters up to her. She steals a kiss, then drapes her arms over Emma’s shoulders and admits, “It’s very likely, yes.”

Emma grunts. “Just tell me.”

“So demanding,” Regina teases before she explains, “She thought, given your connection to the both of us, that I might be interested to know that she’s my sister.”

“ _ What? _ ” Emma almost chokes with the effort not to shout. “How is that  _ not important _ ?” And how the fuck did she not know this?

“How  _ is _ it,” Regina retorts. “I’ve never met her, I don’t know her.” Caressing the back of her neck when Emma frowns, she continues, “Assuming she’s telling truth, then the only connection her and I share is by blood; how does that affect my relationship with you, who, I might add, is the only person I’m interested in having a relationship with in the first place?”

“You’re not curious?” Emma knows she would be-  _ had _ been. When she learned who her parents were and Zelena had offered to help find them, she’d jumped at the chance. She needed answers, and they were the only people who had them. “I mean, don’t you want to know why you were separated, or why she’s never contacted you before?”

“Not particularly.” Regina shrugs, reasoning, “Knowing our mother, she couldn’t see a future where having Zelena would benefit her. It’s not right, or fair, but that is who our mother is. As for contact; I don’t know, and nor do I honestly care. Chances are she wouldn’t have told me if not for you, so why should I? I will care, to an extent, because you and her grew up together but beyond that…” She smiles sadly and says, “I discovered long ago that blood means very little when it comes to family and the ones you love.”

As Emma begins to understand, she slides her arms around Regina’s waist. She should have guessed after all the stories she’s heard. With a mother like Cora who’d forced her to marry a man more than twice her age, which in turn forced her to mother a child not her own, it’s kind of obvious now that she’s thinking about it; why  _ would _ Regina place any value on family she herself didn’t choose when those are her experiences? 

“Oh now why do you look like that?”  _ Because I’m an idiot _ . “Fine, if it means that much to you-”

“No,” she blurts. Feeling Regina’s attempt to retreat from their embrace, she tightens her hold. “It doesn’t. I mean… it does, but it doesn’t.” She groans before shaking her head and assuring, “I get it. I just- Zelena is going to be around because of me. She’s important to me, and maybe one day you’ll choose her and she’ll be important to you too but if not, then I get it.”

Regina gazes at her with uncertainty and Emma squeezes her lightly, smiling when she feels her relax. Regina presses their heads together and kisses her softly. “I have had more horribly mawkish moments with you in half a day than I’ve had my whole life,” she murmurs. “What  _ are _ you doing to me, my Princess?”

Emma grins. “I don’t know what I’m doing to you,” she replies playfully, “but I have some ideas about what I could  _ do _ to you, my Queen.”

Regina chuckles, low and sexy. “Is this how it’s going to be? I’m going to try to do nice, normal everyday things with you and you’re just going to keep propositioning me until I give in?”

Mock innocent, Emma flutters her lashes and questions, “Would that be a bad thing?”

“Absolutely not.” Regina smirks. “I simply wonder if I should tie you to my bed and save us both the trouble.” Emma shivers as fingers brush the back of her neck before they ascend into her hair and Regina tugs gently, purring, “I could stop by between meals... maybe offer you something to eat before I then ride you until you pass out. I’ll be free to go about my day as usual, and you’ll be in my bed where you so obviously desire to be.”

Emma groans, sorely tempted to accept. There are definitely worse ways to live out one’s life. “Delicious as that sounds…”

“Malcontent,” Regina murmurs, kissing her firmly. A throat clears just as she’s pulling back and she lowers her voice in warning, “It is a brave soul who dares think themselves more worthy of my attention.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

If not Jonathan’s words, then it’s the look of outrage that crosses her face that cracks Emma up. She starts laughing and Regina sighs as she turns around, leaning back against her, hands gripping the arms around her waist as she says, “Now look what you’ve done.” She shakes her head slowly and adds, “If this becomes a regular occurrence, I’m going to have to get rid of one of you.”

Still chuckling, Emma settles her chin on a shoulder. “Quick kid, make a cute face.” She snickers when he immediately pouts. “Okay, you’re too old for that to be as adorable as it is.”

Regina hums. Whether it’s in thought or agreement, Emma can’t be sure. She isn’t given the time to contemplate it before Regina questions, “Who says it won’t be you I decide to get rid of?”

“If it is-” Deliberate but subtle so as not to disturb Jonathan, Emma grinds into her backside, drawing a hitch of breath. “-I guess I’ll just have to find some way to convince you to keep me.”

Tapping her arm in a silent bid to be let go, Regina doesn’t say anything but when Emma reluctantly releases her, she quickly turns and captures her mouth in a scorching kiss that leaves them both temporarily breathless.

“Well…” Emma sucks on her own lower lip, hoping to soothe the mild sting that  _ says _ teeth were involved at some point. A few of her brain cells may still be busy writhing in pleasure, as she has no idea when that point might have been. “Okay then.”

Regina smiles a little too sweetly, then pats her cheek, the reason for her smile clear with her next words. “You’re lucky we have an audience, dear.” And with that, she turns back to Jonathan, spins him around and wraps an arm around his shoulders, leading him off to wherever they’re off to next.

Emma watches after them, frozen as she processes the quasi, not so weirdly arousing, threat. 

_ Unlucky, more like. _

 

...

  
  


The next few hours pass quickly. After her full tour of the grounds- which doesn’t take anywhere near as long as Emma expected it to, a trip to the stables, followed by lunch and a brief confrontation between Regina and an advisor who may or may not secretly have a fetish for being set on fire, Jonathan runs off to his lessons. Lessons in what, she isn’t entirely certain. She assumes it’s the customary, boring royalty type lessons he’s required to go through as Regina’s ward, but she isn’t all that interested enough to actually ask. Regina offered him the day off from them before he mentioned something about a promise he made. He dashed off before Regina decided to question him on it, and she’s been muttering about it ever since.

Emma is, without a doubt, highly amused by it.

She is, unfortunately, also smart and after careful consideration, and a glare that’s sent her way after Regina catches her grinning one too many times, she decides not to tease. Instead, she gives into her curiosity because, if she’s not mistaken, they’re walking towards the throne room for some reason. “Do you have court today?”  _ More importantly- _ “Do I have to attend?”

Pausing in her stride, Regina turns to her with a frown. “I’m sorry, do you have other plans?”

“No, but I’m happy to make some.” Emma runs a hand through her hair as the frown deepens, and takes a breath before she explains, “I’m sorry, I just… Between Zelena and my parents, I get enough of court. I mean, it’s all so tedious. I don’t know how they or anyone can put up with any of it. If it’s not the common folk expecting their monarch to control the weather or some such stupid nonsense, it’s snot-nosed nobles expecting handouts just for breathing even though we all know, really, we’d all be better off if they stopped wasting the air and just-”

There’s a strange sort of wheezing sound and she closes her mouth. Realizing that it’s coming from Regina, her eyes grow wide, and then Regina is throwing her head back as deep, husked laughter spills from her throat. Emma rolls her eyes as the conflicting warmth of embarrassment and arousal try to coexist in her cheeks and stomach.

Unsurprisingly, despite her rant,  the arousal wins out and she feels herself twitch in warning. “Regina,” she murmurs. If Regina  _ is _ expected at court, then now is hardly the time. “You have-”

Regina gestures dismissively. “I don’t,” she interrupts, chuckling softly. “That’s not why…” She only glances down for a second but it’s enough. Her eyes darken. “Oh, Emma.”

Cheeks suddenly much hotter than the warmth low in her belly, Emma tries to cover her not so little, rising problem. “It’s fine. It’ll-”  _ go away _ . 

She doesn’t get to finish. Regina is instantly just  _ there _ , ripping the hands away from her groin and forcing Emma to wrap her arms around her. Kissing her, and Emma can’t  _ not _ kiss her back. It is literally impossible. From the very first kiss they’ve shared, as soon as their lips meet, she is absolutely useless. Her mind short-circuits and there isn’t a single thought left in her head that doesn’t involve them naked in some way.

Back hitting a wall before she registers that she’s moving, she groans and yanks Regina hard against her. They kiss until their chests heave, both desperate for breath. She’s seconds from pushing Regina down to the floor and taking her here, where anyone could stumble across them, when the sound of an unfamiliar laugh forces them apart.

Breathing in deeply through her nose, Regina rests their heads together as her eyes close. She releases the breath on a sigh. “Hello Daddy.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a headache that's been tormenting me the last 4 days, and I hate this chapter.

Introducing Emma to her father had been her original plan but after minimal consideration, Regina opens her eyes and glances over her shoulder. “Daddy,” she begins, “I know you’ve been patient…” It’s a lie, and a poor one at that considering, as Emma stated earlier, it hasn’t even been a full day yet. Her father, though, isn’t all that well known for his patience and the fact he’s waited this long to come and find them is surprising enough. “But-”

He interrupts with a chuckle and she purses her lips. “I do not require details, preciosa. It is clear I have interrupted something. I shall return to my room.” He grins. “Try not to take too long.”

Knowing better than to make any kind of promise in regards to _that_ , Regina tilts her head to the side, her tone blank when she drawls, “Thank you, Daddy.”

He shakes his head as he laughs and turns. As he makes his way back to his room and they are alone once more, Regina returns her attention to Emma, who is staring at her, wide-eyed and with pink in her cheeks. “Did you just…”

“Blow off my father to have sex with you?” Regina smirks. It is a first, of which she is certain to have many now that she has her Emma. Whether or not those firsts are quite as inappropriate, she will simply have to wait, see and, hopefully, enjoy.  “I do believe I did.”

“Um.”

She raises a brow. “Was I mistaken in thinking you didn’t want to wait?” Slipping a hand between them, she presses it into Emma’s stomach and gazes down at the proof of Emma’s need nestled against her pelvis. “I suppose I could… encourage you to behave a while longer.”

Magic could be helpful from time to time. She doesn’t want to use the spell now but she will likely have to use it in future. She is most definitely not looking forward to it. Her eyes flicker up, mouth quirked. “Unless you think it might help when you officially meet my father? Hmm? Is that where you get all your confidence from?”

“No!”

 _Good_. Regina thinks; to know she comes by it naturally is far more appealing.

Emma’s cheeks burn brighter and Regina laughs as she leans in, lightly kissing her jaw. She trails her hand down, fingers curling around the bulge and fitting it snuggly in her palm before she gives it a firm squeeze.

Emma groans, hips bucking. “Uh...”

“You’ve been teasing me all day.” Regina licks from jaw to ear and snags the lobe between her teeth. She bites down gently before sucking it into her mouth. Humming when Emma grabs her by the hips, she releases the lobe to whisper silkily, “Time to pay up, Princess.”

When the grip tightens, it’s almost hard enough to be painful, and she growls low in warning. Emma loosens her hold slowly, the pressure of her fingers easing but still firm enough to please Regina. Arousal coating her voice, she rasps, “Sorry.”

Smiling, Regina pulls back just enough to meet her gaze. Reaching up with her other hand, she cups Emma’s cheek and kisses her softly on the mouth. She loathes apologies, but in this instance, she’ll let it slide. “I think it time you relinquish your control- we don’t want you to become accustomed, now do we?” Swallowing, Emma shakes her head and Regina’s smile widens. _Such a smart mate._ “Mmm... So delightfully obliging.”

As she claims another kiss, she closes her eyes and pictures her bed. She imagines how much better it would be if Emma were in it, beneath her, writhing in pleasure, gasping- no- _begging_ for more. It sends a little trill down her spine as her magic rises, obeying her silent command to make it so as they’re transported to her chambers.

“Ow.”

Her eyes snap open in time to catch Emma’s grimace before she’s suddenly lifted into the air by the hips she’s straddling. Emma reaches underneath her and pulls out the small handheld mirror she’d apparently landed on. Regina flushes. She’d completely forgotten about tossing it onto the bed after she’d ended her conversation with Zelena.

“I-”

“Don’t.” Placing it on the bedside table as she lowers herself back down to the bed, Emma grins. “It surprised me more than it hurt,” she reasons, an amused gleam in her eyes. A hand on each of Regina’s thighs, she continues, “Now, since I’m not in control, I would like to request a follow through on whichever one of your thoughts led us here.”

Tension dissipating from her shoulders as the need to apologize fades, Regina smirks. “For that, we’re going to need… a lot less clothing,” she says, bending forward and placing her own hands on either side of Emma’s head. “Care to assist me with that?”

“I dunno.” Rubbing her thighs through her dress, Emma murmurs, “You seemed pretty capable last night.”

Mouth twitching, Regina leans on one hand and uses the other to swiftly undo the buttons on Emma’s shirt. “I am capable of many things,” she agrees, flicking the shirt open.

Emma bites her lip. “I don’t doubt it…” She laughs lightly and tries to squirm away from the fingers darting across her ribs as Regina grins. “But?”

“But,” Regina purrs, pressing their lower halves together. She palms a breast and bows her head, kissing a path from the hollow of Emma’s throat, down to her chest. “It’s nice to have help every now and then,” she mumbles against warm skin.

Emma is quiet for a handful of minutes, enjoying the attention as her sighs, hums and moans fill the air around them. Regina kisses her everywhere she can, tasting her skin with the occasional flick of the tongue or suckling of lips. She is enchanted by every sound that falls from Emma’s mouth, wanting more and receiving them only to discover they are not nearly enough.

When Emma does finally speak, it is barely above a whisper, hoarse and lusty. “If you want my help, you’ll need to stop doing that.”

“I don’t think so,” Regina murmurs, mouth descending down her stomach, teeth nipping at her delectable flesh.

_More._

“No?”

“No,” she repeats and quickly unfastens her pants. “You’ll just have to wait your turn.”

“Wait my-” Her breath hitches as Regina slips beneath the waistband of her underwear and wraps long fingers around her cock. “Oh.”

Pulling it free, she sits back on her knees between Emma’s legs and runs her thumb along the underside of it. Until now, she hasn’t had the chance to admire it up close. It truly is a magnificent thing; the perfect length and thick, but not too thick. She is positively drenched by the thought of being wrapped around it, eager to feel it pulse on her tongue the way it pulses in her hand.

 _This_ \- this is what she wants.

Ignoring the soft rasp of her name, she lowers her head and kisses the already weeping tip. Her hand strokes from hilt to head, then she follows it back down, savouring the heat against her lips.

Returning to the tip as fingers thread through her hair and Emma moans, she lazily rolls her tongue around it before suckling the head, loosing a moan of her own as the warm, salty taste of her mate slickens her mouth.

 _Delicious_.

 

…

 

“Come on.”

Sighing as if entirely put upon, Regina clasps the hand extended to her and allows Emma to pull her from the comfort of her bed. Minutes prior, she could barely move and now she’s expected to actually be able to _walk_ . She stumbles on her feet, and it isn’t _entirely_ deliberate but she grins as Emma catches her swiftly.

“My hero,” she whispers, her tone teasing.

Emma snorts. “You really are this dramatic,” she says. “I feel like this is the kind of thing I’m meant to tell someone.”

Unperturbed by the thought, Regina replies, “They would never believe you.” And anyone who might would sooner forget knowing such things for fear of what she certainly _would_ do to them if she ever learned they knew. “Besides, you know something no one else does; is that really something you want to share?”

With a quiet laugh, Emma guides her around the bed and through the door into her bathing room. “Can you…” She gestures to the large, marble pit in the centre of the floor. “Or should I- never mind then.”

Regina presses a kiss to her jaw as steam begins to rise from the bath. “Were any of my servants to see you in your current state, I fear my ability to value their lives would cease to exist.” Disentangling herself from Emma, she moves toward the pit and slips into the water. Breathing a sigh of utter contentment, she sinks back against the wall as Emma slides in beside her, and closes her eyes. “You do have some wonderful ideas, Princess.”

The words are barely out of her mouth when the light behind her lids dim and she feels the exquisite, supple body of her mate plaster itself to her front. “I have another wonderful idea for you, Queenie.”

_Queenie?_

Her lids flutter and she opens her eyes, narrowing them. “It best not be that sobriquet.”

“Mmm, no.” Emma kisses her, lips feather light before hardening with intent.

Skilfull hands wander her body, stroking from hips to stomach to chest, and back again. Regina arches into the caresses, amazed by her own eagerness to continue despite the fact that only a few short seconds ago she’d been sated, happy to wait until tonight when they’d had a chance to recover and would have more time to get lost in each other.

At this rate, the only thing she’ll be doing tonight is sleeping.

“Emma...”

“Mmm.”

“We sh- should… oh.” The combination of the hot mouth on her breast and the familiar hardness making itself at home between her thighs, and her thought to delay them is forgotten. Her breathing slows as she grips the back of Emma’s head, her own falling back with a moan. “Oh yes.”

Like before, Emma grabs her hips but this time the hands are gentle, coaxing rather than demanding. Releasing her breast and kissing a path up her neck, Emma lifts her up. She rises easily with the help of the water, her legs going around Emma’s waist before arms encircle her own and Emma turns them around.

Looking down on her with slight confusion, Regina emits a curious sound from the back of her throat. “I’m not in control, remember?” Emma smiles as the understanding dawns on her face and a low, soft groan escapes her mouth. Bringing their lips together, Emma murmurs, “You should take advantage while it lasts,” then kisses her.

Though it sounds suspiciously like a threat, Regina chooses to ignore it. Not only is the suggestion a provocative one but in their short time of knowing one another, even she, stubborn as she can be, will admit that of all the people she has met, Emma is the only one who will ever get her to cede control, happily.

Effortlessly.

Cupping her jaw as she deepens the kiss, she caresses Emma’s throat with her other hand. She savors soft skin and the warm, wet mouth that moves so well with her own. Kissing Emma is almost enough to make her forget what awaits her but her hand snakes downward with little, if any, conscious thought at all. She takes her pleasure in the way Emma responds to her touch, both physical and audible, muffled as the whimpers and moans causing her lips to tingle may be.

With neither the time nor patience for slow, she takes Emma in hand and lines her up. Her breath catches and she breaks their kiss as she sinks down onto Emma’s cock, revelling in the familiar burn- the slight stretch before her lids flutter and she braces herself, knowing what comes next, and wanting it more than words can ever hope to express.

Emma does not disappoint.

Gripping the cheeks of her ass, she thrusts with the last inch and fills her completely. Regina whimpers, head falling to a shoulder as arms engulf her. She moves her hips, need spiking as they roll uncontrollably and Emma pants in her ear; a sure sign she is already so very close to giving Regina exactly what she wants- what she _craves_.

It is the work of mere minutes, an overwhelming and frenzied fucking of bodies thrusting in and against each other. Their releases strike simultaneously and they both cry out, clinging to one another as though they are each the other’s only lifeline.

There is little change in the aftermath save for the heavy breaths and the sound of water no longer lapping quite so intensely against their flesh. Emma holds her with one arm while the hand of the other strokes her back, comforting her through the aftershocks of what was likely the most intense orgasm of her life.

“That was…” _Unexpected. Quick. Explosive._ “...different.”

Emma’s chuckle warms her neck. “That’s one word for it,” she says before Regina raises her head. With a smile and a kiss, she adds, “Good different though, for me- and you, I hope.”

“Definitely.”

A comfortable silence begins to surround them. Unwinding her legs from Emma’s waist, Regina returns to her feet. Knowing they need to finish their bath before her father grows impatient and comes looking for them once more, she intends to do just that when Emma stops her.

Try as she might to hide her reaction, the way Emma’s palm rests against her cheek sends a sharp pain through her, and she winces. Emma jerks the hand back, eyes filling with concern.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Regina.” Kissing her gently to silence her, Regina smiles as they part and gestures to her face, dispelling the illusion she’s been using to hide the still to heal cut on her cheek. Emma hisses. “I thought you said it would heal on its own?”

She shrugs. “It was supposed to.”

“Regina, please tell me who-”

She sighs, cutting her off, “Emma.”

“Please,” Emma whispers, lightly cupping her cheek this time. She strokes her thumb below the cut. “I promise not to do anything rash, but maybe if I know, I could-”

“Your father.” Her face twists in anger. Regina huffs and reminds her, “You promised.”

“I…” Face softening, Emma blows out a breath. “Yes, I did. I’m… His sword?” Mirroring her nod, she explains, “It’s enchanted against most magic. You’ll need light magic to... uh.”

Regina smiles faintly. She knew as soon as her cheek startled to tingle what was happening. “What?”

“You have light magic?” She shakes her head. “But it’s-”

“You do.”

“No I…” Emma frowns. “I do?”

“You do,” Regina repeats. Capturing her hand, she turns her head and kisses her palm. “And I know this is a big deal for you, but we will have to wait until later to talk.”

“But-”

Squeezing her hand, she shakes her head and says, “We have kept my father waiting long enough.”

 

…

 

It is less than an hour to dinner before they finish their bath and put some clothes on, all the while ignoring the sudden tension between them. Regina feels an inexplicable  _ need _ for them to remain close and when they finally make it to the room hidden behind her throne in which her father resides, it is with their hands clasped tightly.

Emma had provided a token protest upon leaving her chambers, purely for the most asinine reason she could have thought of; appearances. Regina had scoffed before getting exactly what she wanted. As always.

“Daddy,” she says as soon as she spots him seated comfortably across the room, a goblet of what she expects is his favourite ale held loosely in one hand while a book occupies the other.

“Child,” he replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. He lowers the book, his gaze going first to their joined hands before the smile brightens his face he looks up at Emma. His tone is warm when he says, “You must be Emma.”

“And you must be Henry.”

Bringing their hands to her mouth, Regina brushes her lips over the back of Emma’s knuckles before reluctantly letting her go. She crosses to the table beside her father, pouring them each a drink and smirking when he playfully questions, “Not Graham?”

With her back to Emma, Regina can’t  see her grimace but she can hear it. “No,” she answers, her tone low enough to make her displeasure clear. “I’ve already had that… misfortune.”

“Unscathed?”

Regina chuckles, interjecting before Emma can mistake his teasing for anything serious. Emma will learn soon enough how little regard her father has for her Captain. “Jonathan protected her,” she offers, ensuring there is enough humour in her tone for Emma to catch.

Although it is unlikely obvious to anyone who hasn’t spent significant time in her presence, the little growl Emma gives lacks any of the danger previous ones had as she repeats, “Protected me?”

“I can’t imagine the state your hands would be in after an altercation with him,” Regina states as a matter of fact. She turns, drinks in hand, and returns to her, one hand extended. As Emma accepts the wine, she comments casually, “Though I do enjoy the thought of his blood running down your chin- I assume you’re naturally a biter, not just in the bedroom.”

Having just taken a drink, Emma snorts and almost chokes on her wine. Regina hides her grin at the glare she receives, not in the least bit subtle as she pats her on the back. Emma swats her away, rolling her eyes before responding, “You assume wrong.”

Regina allows the grin to form then, stomach warming with the knowledge she will be the only one granted the pleasure. “Lucky me.”

Her father clears his throat and her eyes dart to him, her grin widening. “Daddy, join us for dinner, won’t you?” Blanking her expression as the question leaves her mouth, she continues with feigned innocence and adds, “You’ll find interrogating Emma much easier while she is distracted by food.”

Again, Emma almost chokes on her wine.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a bit shorter than usual, but it was taking way too long for some reason, so I figure; fuck it. Anything more would just be filler to pad the word count.

“You really don’t want to talk about this, do you?”

Stretching languidly, Regina rolls to face her. Head on her shoulder, arm haphazardly thrown across her waist and warm, soft lips against the side of her breast, she murmurs, “About what?”

Emma looks down at her. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Regina is as distracted by them as she is, but if that’s the case then they really need to talk about this. “My magic,” she answers, running a finger over her jaw to her chin. Regina surrenders to the pressure and tips her head back to meet her stare. “It’s been two days.”

Regina nods, admitting, “I don’t know where to begin.”

Emma believes her but, “That doesn’t explain why you keep distracting me from broaching the topic with sex,” she says. She isn’t going to _complain_ , but it’s been as confusing as it has pleasurable.

“That’s what you keep trying to talk to me about?”

She chuckles. “What else?”

“I…” Regina pauses with a frown. “I don’t think I want to tell you if the thought hasn’t even occurred to you yet.”

Worded like that, it takes no time at all for Emma to figure it out. “You thought I wanted to leave…” She grimaces. The thought hasn’t occurred to her. At all. Especially not when it hasn’t even been a week yet. It might. In a month. Maybe two. Maybe six. “After three days?”

Regina huffs. “Is the implication it will take longer supposed to make me feel better?”

The amount of sarcasm she manages to instill in the question has Emma grinning. “I don’t want to leave, Regina.”

Her head jerks up and dark eyes bore into Emma; seemingly right into her soul. She shivers. “Why?”

Succinct and straight to the point, “You’re here,” she answers honestly.

“Oh.”

That’s it; _oh_ , as if it isn’t the most romantic thing she’s said since she got here. She rolls her eyes. “Yes. _Oh_ ,” she teases before she flips Regina over and settles on top of her. “You got a problem with that?”

Regina looks at her like she might, like she might have been perfectly okay with it until Emma started manhandling her. The smile is already blooming though and the softening of her eyes is impossible to mistake for anything other than an infinite kind of affection; they give Regina away every time, Emma has noticed. She wonders how she’d missed it that night at the inn because, looking back, that affection has always been there. Maybe not quite as limitless as it appears now, but obvious in the way that even the smallest amount has a way of changing her entire face

If she’d known what it was at the time, there is no way she would have left like she did.

“I don’t know when, or if,” she continues, no longer desiring or even needing a verbal answer. “It might have escaped your notice, but I don’t exactly plan these things.”

“If your decision to return to Oz hadn’t spoken of your impulsiveness, your sudden announcement that you were coming back to me certainly did.” Sliding a hand up her chest and over a shoulder, Regina clasps the back of her neck. Coaxing her down, she murmurs against her lips, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Emma kisses her, slow and deep. The words were a given but knowing someone wants you and hearing it from their mouth are two very different things. Words no longer have the meaning she wants them to, and so she kisses until her jaw protests and breathing through her nose stops being enough for her poor, air-deprived lungs.

When they part, it’s too soon, especially if the sound Regina makes is any indication. Emma takes a breath and it’s the only one she’s allowed before they’re kissing again. A tongue thrusts into her mouth, fingers threading through her hair as Regina rolls her over and pins her to the bed, body already squirming against her and demanding more.

Emma can’t give her what she wants but it doesn’t stop her from wishing she could and sliding her hand between them. Regina will have to make do, which won’t be a problem with how wet she is and how slick Emma’s fingers are by the time she enters her.

Regina gasps and groans into her mouth, and then she’s up, back arching as she rides her hand. Emma gazes up at her, transfixed by the sight and the wanton little sounds that slip freely from her mouth.

It ends far sooner than she’d like. Regina comes within seconds, though Emma’s disappointment is mild. Regardless of how long it takes, Regina is never not gorgeous when she comes; the brief but intense look of pleasure that crosses her face is eclipsed only by the rarest of smiles.

“Mine,” Emma growls, her own possessiveness startling her.

A single glance at her expression and Regina starts to laugh. The sound alone is enough to snap Emma out of it, brow furrowing as the pout forms on her mouth. Regina calms quickly and strokes her cheek, her own mouth quirked with another of those smiles; the kind that seems to light up the whole room without any effort at all.

 _Adorable_.

Regina doesn’t say it, but the words are clear in her eyes and Emma hears it inside her head in a tone she is beginning to recognize all too well. Her heart beats a frantic rhythm against her chest but before she can ruin the moment with her irrational panic, Regina kisses her and assures, “Yours.”

 

…

 

Regina has court for the first time since Emma arrived.

With a promise that they would discuss her magic later and the rather touching fact that Regina remembered her distaste for the proceedings soon to occur within the throne room, she was dismissed with a swift kiss and told to do whatever her heart desires for the next two hours.

At a loss for what to do considering her heart’s desire had just left, Emma does the only thing she can think of and goes in search of Jonathan. His lessons, she’d learned a day earlier, aren’t what she thought. Regina has no desire for him to learn how to act like a royal and had instead let him choose how to spend his time. Emma doesn’t know the exact specifics but upon asking a nearby guard, she was told she would find him if she took a walk down to the market. She doesn’t quite appreciate how vague the guard had been but she understands why he was when she arrives. Just beyond the market she can make out the form of Jonathan, the shirt he’d been wearing this morning draped over his shoulder as he slaves over the hot coals of a forge.

Her mouth falls open and if anyone were to ask, she’d be embarrassed by how long she stares. She has half a mind to turn around, storm into the throne room and demand Regina explain to her why she didn’t think the fact her ward wants to become a blacksmith wasn’t something she thought to share. Jonathan catches sight of her before she decides to do just that. She’s relieved when he stops what he’s doing and walks over to her. She might be able to get away with more than the average person, but interrupting Regina while she’s being all Queenly would probably be pushing her luck.

Besides, Jonathan’s grin is almost wide enough that the threat of his cheeks splitting open is an actual, conscious worry for Emma by the time he stands before her. “She said I was delusional for thinking I could keep this from you,” he says, pulling the shirt from his shoulder to wipe the sweat from his face. When he sees her frown, he throws it back over his shoulder and adds, “Just for a few more days.”

The pang of hurt from him not wanting her to know dissipates with the addition, though her confusion remains. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I wanted you to see what I could do first.”

She repeats, “First?”

“Yeah.” His grin falls and his expression turns sheepish. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but then Regina started telling me about you and… it sounded fun.” He shrugs again and explains, “She said I should talk to you about it when you came but I told her I wanted to make something for you- that’s when she told me I was delusional.”

Biting the inside of her cheek, Emma raises an eyebrow. “You were hoping she’d keep me occupied, huh?” His face turns bright red and she lets out a laugh. “Well…” She smiles and says, “If you want, I can pretend I don’t know until you’re ready to show me.”

“That’s okay.” Mirroring her smile, he turns, beckoning to her as he walks back to the forge. He picks up the blade he’s been working on and passes it to her. “It’s only ornamental.”

She nods, able to tell as soon as she feels the weight in her hand. It’s too light, likely to shatter were it to come up against a weapon specifically designed for battle. It is good though. There are some mistakes where he’s tried to shape the metal a little too aggressively but a little more time with it and he should be able to correct them easily enough. “This is your first attempt?” He nods, his smile shy as he takes it back and sets it down on the anvil. “You’re a natural, kid. I look forward to seeing it when it’s finished.”

“You and I both.” A man much older than her own master emerges from further back into the smithy. “The boy is talented.”

“He is,” she agrees, stepping forward. She holds out her hand. “I’m Em-”

“I know who you are,” he interrupts, grasping her hand firmly. “I doubt there are many who don’t after the Queen’s announcement. I am Galas.”

Surprised, her hand slips from his, her tone blank as she repeats, “Announcement?”

Galas inclines his head. “She was furious with Graham,” he explains with a grin. “She made certain her advisors were aware of you after your… altercation with him. They, in turn, have spread the word to ensure they can continue to live long and healthy lives.”

Emma shakes her head, though she’s unable to stop her smile at the thought of Regina terrorizing her advisors for her sake. “Sorry about that.”

He waves his hand through the air. “Think nothing of it,” he says, “the month would not be complete without being threatened by the Queen at least once; good for the soul, I think.”

Nudging Jonathan aside, he gazes appreciatively down at the kid’s handiwork before he picks up the blade and places it on the rack above the forge. “Fetch my tools, boy, this order won’t finish itself.”

“I could...”

“Help?” He turns to her as Jonathan scampers off. “Yes. I imagine if the Queen fancies you, you’ll be trouble otherwise.” He tugs a piece of parchment from the pocket of his apron and a bag of coins from his belt, handing them to her. “When you return from the market with those, we’ll see if you’re as good as she seems to think.”

Emma accepts both, turning toward the market before she frowns. She might be reading a bit too much into it, but if she’s not mistaken, it almost sounded as if he were considering offering her a job.

...

“My, you _do_ suit hard work, don’t you?”

Eyes wide, Emma quickly lowers the jug of water she’d been downing away from her mouth and loudly sputters, “Regina!” If nearly choking to death were going to become a habit, she’s seriously going to reconsider this whole staying business. Either that or Regina needs to wear a damn bell. “What are you doing here?”

Gaze narrowing, pupils contracting as the desire fades from her eyes, Regina steps into the smithy. “Did I, or did I not, specify two hours?”

Swallowing, mouth suddenly dry, Emma licks her lips. “Uh, yes?”

“It has been almost four.”

“Oh.” _Shit._ “I’m so- I lost tr…”

A hand rises to halt her excuses and she trails off. “There’s no need to state the obvious, Emma.” Regina glances around, nose wrinkling in distaste. “I cannot fathom how you tolerate all this heat.” Before she can respond, Regina continues. “Regardless; you are late and I am hungry,” she states, sweeping from the smithy with a, “Come along.”

Looking over her shoulder, Emma notes the two men hidden in the shadows and their valiant attempts to hold in their laughter. She sighs, exasperated but irrefutably fond of the bossy woman who’d just departed their presence. “Well,” she drawls with a shrug, mimicking Regina’s haughty tone as she says, “No need for me to state the obvious.”

Twin grins spread across Galas’ and Jonathan’s faces. “It was nice meeting you, Emma.” Galas gestures to the hilt she’d fashioned just before she’d taken her break for a drink. “I can finish that, but thank you; you are everything she said you were.”

It shouldn’t warm her the way it does. She barely knows the man but she understands that it’s not about him. Not really. She doesn’t know when Regina found the time in the last three days, but to know she’s spent it talking about her is as touching as it was unexpected.

Inhaling slowly but deeply, she decides Regina has waited long enough and flashes him a smile before turning on her heel. Regina isn’t far and Emma is under no illusions. The saunter and disinterested glance back might fool everyone else, but not Emma. Regina could transport herself back to her palace in the blink of an eye if she so chose to. The fact she doesn’t, and the fact she _continues_ walking that way tells Emma plenty.

Falling in beside her, she leans to whisper in her ear, “Much as I enjoyed the show, your feet must hate you.” Regina scoffs and Emma grins as she winds an arm around her waist. Making a mental note to offer her a massage later, she says, “Seriously, those heels are absurd.”

Regina pauses her stride, forcing Emma to stop. Her voice is throated, husky in the way that speaks of violent threats but also ample lust. “Emma.”

“Regina,” she responds in kind.

“You are touching me.”

She snorts, then laughs. “That’s the first I’ve heard you complain.”

When Regina looks at her, she repeats the adorable wrinkle of her nose. “You’re all sweaty and in desperate need of a bath,” she says, eyes tracing her up and down.

Emma cocks a brow. She isn’t fooled. Not even a little bit. “Am I supposed to pretend you weren’t staring at me like you wanted to eat me just minutes ago?” She tightens her arm and adds, “That you’re not still doing it?”

“Well…” Regina sniffs. “I can hardly be faulted for knowing what exists beneath the dirt and grime now, can I?” Her arm sweeps out with the question, magic gathering them up and depositing them straight into her bathing room. “Clean yourself up; we will be dining in my chambers and I will not have you dirtying my things.”

“Have you always been this bossy?”

“No, but it’s been clear for a while now that you need a firm hand.” Flicking her fingers toward the bath, she says, “In you get.”

Emma pouts. “You’re not joining me?”

A dark brow rises and Regina snorts. “So you can accuse me in a few hours of trying to distract you from discussing your magic again? I think not.”

“Your loss,” Emma teases, winking as she sheds her clothes.

Regina smirks. “Indeed,” she agrees, waltzing from the room as the rest of her words drift in from the bedroom. “One I imagine I will survive until tonight when you _will_ make it up to me.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more, but I'm tired of feeling bad for not updating this yet. Also, I wanted to change the POV because this way isn't working for me.

“ _Em-ma_...”

Three times. Three times Regina has called her name, and three times Emma has ignored her. _It’s like trying to talk to a wall._

Rising from the bed, she marches over to the window where Emma stands looking out. She’s about to reach out and touch her shoulder when Emma gasps and quickly turns around, jerking away, back hitting the window pane with a wince.

“Oh. Oh my.”

“Regina...”

The sound of her name from those lips, red and plump from what must have been Emma biting at them, sends a tingle straight through her. She breathes in deeply and her mouth waters. The scent combined with the usual bright green eyes turned an almost pitch black, and Regina barely strangles the moan that threatens to erupt from her chest. Emma had mentioned she was close to her rut, but they were supposed to have more time than this. “I thought you said we had at least a week?”

“I- uh…” Emma gestures uselessly and tries to slip passed her. “I need to go… somewhere.”

“Go?” Catching her by the elbow, Regina spins her around. “Oh no, Princess; you are going to stay right here.”

They hadn’t been able to make plans together yet, but she certainly has plans of her own and none of them will be fulfilled if Emma _runs away_. No, Emma must stay for the time being. At least long enough to put her plans in motion.

“But-”

“Well, not right here,” she continues, guiding her over to the bed. She pushes her shoulders, forcing her down. “We’ll go to the cottage, of course; can’t have anyone interrupting. There’s no telling what your magic might do…” They’ve made some progress with Emma tapping into and controlling it but not enough for it to matter at a time like this. “There’s no telling what _I_ might do, come to think of it.”

Murder certainly won’t be out of the question, were interference a possibility.

Emma gazes up at her, a combination of helplessness, resignation and desire in her expression. “Re-”

“I’ll need to ensure Johnathan is seen to,” she interrupts, wondering if her father would mind looking after him. They’re still hesitant around each other, as if not wanting to get in each other’s way. She doesn’t want to jeopardize any of the progress they’ve made over the past few weeks, but needs must and all that.

“Regina!”

She blinks, snapping back into focus. “Lower your voice,” she chides. “Honestly, I’m standing right here.”

Emma growls, “Is now really the time to provoke me?”

“You mean there are bad times for that?” Waving a hand as her mouth opens, dismissing her response, Regina says, “I’ll be back in a moment... try not to molest anyone.”

She has one foot out the door before it even occurs to her that Emma might very well try to escape before she returns. Appalled by the thought, she walks straight back into the room and over to her bed. “On second thought, you can come,” she says and grabs her by the arm, pulling her to her feet.

Emma doesn’t resist like she expects. Emma curls around her and makes it difficult to walk instead, entrapping her within the strength of those arms as a nose caresses the length of her neck. It is affection made absurd by the barely audible, distracting inhales scattered throughout their journey through the halls.

Any attempt to pry her off, half-hearted as the attempts are, results only in Emma tightening her hold and growling until Regina relents.

She relents easily, winding an arm around Emma and grabbing her hip possessively. She sends death glares to those of her guards daring enough to so much as glance at them in passing. If not for the reason- if not for the hard press of Emma’s desire against her thigh, she would almost be embarrassed but there is a reason, and Emma’s desire leaves her feeling only wanted.

Perhaps even _needed_.

Entering the throne room, she dismisses the few guards stationed there with a subtle flick of her wrist. Mere inches from the door that leads to her father’s room, she taps into her magic for a little enhanced strength and uses it to push Emma against the wall. To ensure there are no misconceptions about what she is about to do, she slips her hand between them, gripping Emma’s bulge firmly as she claims her mouth and kisses her senseless.

She leaves Emma reeling, panting, and drops to her knees, spelling the doors locked with another flick of the wrist. She quickly unties the laces keeping Emma hidden away, and groans wantonly as her cock springs forth, free and so very, very hard.

Licking her lips as she wraps her hand around the base, she glances up, swallowing at the dark look in Emma’s eyes. “There will be none of that,” she says, gesturing again and binding her to the wall. If Emma has her way, they won’t make it to the cottage and as appealing as the thought of being found naked and tied to her on the throne room floor is, it would not be good for either of their reputations. “Now, be a good little Princess and try not to make too much noise.”

Emma strains against her magical bonds but the struggle to free herself is short-lived. Easily distracted as she is, all it takes is for Regina to lay a hand on her stomach and hold her still long enough to remind Emma of what she holds in her other hand. She strokes from the base of her cock all the way to the head, and squeezes.

The moan it gets her leaves her clit throbbing. She swallows and leans forward, more than eager to have Emma in her mouth, to feel the heat on her tongue and the almost suffocating stiffness deep in her throat.

Knowing they need to be quick in case her father decides to try and leave his room only to find himself locked in, she wastes no time in taking what she wants. Guiding Emma between her lips, she suckles the head and laps at the slit, humming as the now familiar, warm, salty- though not wholly unsweet -tang covers her tongue.

The more the taste fills her mouth, the more of Emma she swallows, lips following her hand as it slides down the shaft.

Before long Emma is nudging the back of her throat and she begins to pull back. “No,” Emma groans. She tries to thrust forward but with the hand on her stomach, she can barely lift her hips from the wall. “Regina, plea-”

Pulling all the way back, Regina gives her another squeeze. “Hush,” she chides, taking a moment to admire the way Emma pulses in her hand.

She waits just a second too long as the handle of the door beside them rattles. Her eyes widen and Emma whimpers. “Re-”

“Shhh.” Quickly making a decision, she jumps to her feet and waves her hand.

Three things happen at once; she unbinds Emma- an error on her part, though one she will later admit is not an error at all. The doors unlock in combination with her, most likely vain, hope that her father merely assumes his had been momentarily stuck, and she transports them to the cottage.

The last is the only decision she’d taken any time at all to consider, which is undoubtedly the sole reason for how she loses what little control she’d had over the situation. Emma grabs her as soon as her feet touch the floor, arms around her, lifting her into the air with the kind of ease one might lift a small child, or a pillow… perhaps even a feather.

“Clothes. Off. Now.”

Mind occupied with enjoying the display of strength, Regina doesn’t even try to protest. They’re naked before her back hits the bed. “My turn,” Emma whispers against her shoulder, then thrusts into her.

Regina cries out, arching, clinging to her back as she’s filled. It’s sudden but more welcome than she would have thought. She’s wet- drenched, really. Emma slides into her with almost inconceivable ease. She doesn’t wait or hesitate for a single second, pounding into her, fucking her hard and fast.

Her cries devolve into breathless moans and muted gasps as Emma drives her hips into the bed, over and over again. Regina tries to slow her down by wrapping legs around her waist but it’s no use. In no time at all, Emma’s desperate want to shatter her in the best way possible overshadows all else, the thought slipping away as Regina gives herself over to sensation.

So lost in the pleasure of it all, the teeth at her neck barely register. Her head lolls to the side and Emma takes it as invitation, the bite piercing her flesh just as well as it pierces the haze. Legs falling from around her waist, she rakes nails down Emma’s spine in retaliation, not caring if she draws blood, clawing at her until pain turns to pleasure and she moans, drawing her hands down to Emma’s ass and tightly gripping her cheeks in encouragement.

Emma jerks, hips stuttering momentarily before she resumes her pace. Regina pushes and pulls with every thrust, ensuring each one is as deep and as hard as possible. She comes, though it’s with little fanfare, acknowledged only in the closing of her eyes and the clenching of muscles as a second, more powerful climax builds.

Bodies growing slick with sweat, Emma begins to slow as she inches closer to her own release, each stroke just as deep as before but without the same urgency behind them. Regina moans as the mouth at her neck gentles and Emma begins to suck, tongue rolling against her skin, tasting her to distraction, almost as if-

“Oh.”

Realization strikes a split-second before she’s proven right and Emma meets resistance for the first time, her knot too big to simply slip inside. She whimpers, no longer thrusting but rocking as she tries to coax it in.

Regina bites her lip to stifle a chuckle even as her chest squeezes tight in sympathy and she slides both hands away from Emma’s backside. She wraps one around the back of Emma’s neck and presses the other between them to rub at her clit, humming, delighted as she does a little coaxing of her own and thoughts of being even more full of Emma fill her mind.

It is almost enough. “Emma,” she husks, teetering.“Kiss m- mmm.”

The desperation more than the kiss itself does the trick and as she arches, coming, Emma thrusts. Regina gasps, ripping her mouth from Emma’s with a cry that is equal parts pleasure and pain. She writhes in an attempt to get away, the sensations too intense, but Emma pins her down with hips and teeth, pressing her into the mattress as she clamps down on her throat and releases a warning growl.

Regina freezes, her eyes flying open. They flutter shut a moment later and the growl in her own throat dissipates, replaced with a moan as the first jet of thick, hot come floods her pussy.

This has always been her favourite part but now it’s more; the cock will stay, buried within her for a time. Keeping all of that wonderful heat inside of her, keeping Emma on top of her, keeping her _full_ \- fuller than she has ever been.

Shuddering, she wraps her arms around Emma, accepting everything she has to offer. The bite becomes sharper, and she moans again, wondering. Perhaps even _hoping_ Emma is too far gone to realize what it is she is so very close to doing.

It seems less likely as the seconds pass. The hope wanes but when the teeth do finally leave her skin and Emma raises her head, the disappointment is nothing like Regina expects.

It’s there, but so slight that it might as well not be.

She opens her eyes and smiles softly, lifting a hand from Emma’s back to caress her cheek. “You went a little animal on me for a minute there.”

“Mmm.” Emma turns her head and kisses her palm. Her voice is deep- gravelly, as if she might favour another growl over words, when she speaks, “You could have hurt yourself.”

“I almost hurt _you_ ,” Regina confesses. It isn’t the first time Emma has tried to get her to submit during sex, and she knows it won’t be the last, but in the moment she didn’t quite appreciate it the way she usually does. “You’re lucky your cock has such spectacular timing.”

Emma grins down at her. “I almost went through a wall, huh?”

“Mhmm.” Stroking down her cheek, over her shoulder and down the length of her back, Regina scratches the cheek of her ass and smirks when Emma jolts, feeling her pulse. “I’d suggest you reward it, but it seems quite happy where it is.”

“Oh, it is,” Emma confides, teasing. “And if the way you hug me is any indication, it’s not the only one.”

She dips her head before Regina can respond and kisses her. It’s languid and sweet; a far cry from what they were doing bare minutes earlier. Regina sighs into it, caressing her spine, her hips, her ass, moaning softly with every twitch of her lovely cock.

It doesn’t take much before she wants more.

Breaking the kiss, she questions, “Can you? Like this?”

“Dunno,” Emma confesses, nibbling along her jaw, all the way to her ear. She breathes, “Let’s find out.”

 

…

 

The answer was an unequivocal yes. Emma could, and did multiple times before they came free and she was given a break. Hours later, staring down at the mess they’d made, Regina grimaces and waves her hand over the bedding, cleaning it before she climbs back into bed with Emma. “I thought you’d be more aggressive.”

Peeking an eye open, Emma says, “Me too.”

Regina rolls to face her. “You didn’t know?” She questions, throwing an arm and leg over her and tucking into her side as she waits for a response.

Closing it again, Emma shakes her head. “Sex isn’t normally how I deal with it.”

“Really?”

“I mean, sometimes sex is more convenient and I can’t always avoid it,” she concedes, “If I do, then I’m nearing the end of the rut. I kinda have to talk myself into it- I’m not really… comfortable sleeping with random people.”

Regina hums, unnaturally pleased with this little piece of information. Surprised, though, because while she is of the same opinion regarding strangers in her bed, she had at least had Graham to help her. She couldn’t imagine going without during her heats, even if it were possible. “You didn’t have lovers?”

“Not really.”

“That’s-”

“Sad?” Emma supplies with a humourless snort.

Regina frowns, feeling a flicker of irritation. Whether at Emma’s choice of word or the interruption, she isn’t sure. “Surprising,” she snaps.

Emma pays her tone no mind. “Why?”

Grateful, Regina waits for the irritation to fade before she considers the question. _Where to start?_ She lifts her head, propping it in her hand as she rises onto an elbow. She lets the silence linger until Emma opens her eyes, then cocks an eyebrow. “Disregarding the fact you are undoubtedly more attractive than most?”

Emma’s mouth twitches. “Look who’s talking.”

“I had lovers, dear.” Seeing the flash of annoyance in Emma’s own eyes, Regina smirks. “Granted, none of them hold a candle to you, but they existed.”

Biting her lower lip around a smile, Emma turns her head and drops a kiss against her arm. “You’re good at that,” she says before she rolls, pushing Regina onto her back and settling on top of her.

“What?”

“Stroking my ego,” she murmurs, kissing her lightly on the lips, then across her jaw and down her neck. She pauses where Regina knows a bruise is beginning to form within the indents of teeth that have yet to fade, and bathes the skin there with her tongue.

Regina purrs, tipping her head back.  “Is that what I’m doing?”

“Uh huh,” Emma hums, teeth scraping against skin as her fingers crawl up the inside of a thigh. Regina’s breathing shallows. “Need you… again.”

Swallowing, she breathes in deeply and closes her eyes, breathing out, “All yours, dearest.”

 

…

 

Twice more, and Emma finally passes out. Regina is glad she didn’t have to suffer another knot just yet. She hadn’t realized how sore she was until that last round and without her heat to keep her going, Emma has a little too much stamina for her liking.

Tempted as she is to spell Emma to sleep for a while, she dismisses the idea as she gets up from the bed. Not knowing how Emma might react and having seen her temper a number of times during their magic lessons, she doesn’t want to risk it, not least of all because said temper seems to upset Emma far more than it does anyone else.

Simultaneously dismissing the thought of dressing, she glances down at Emma one last time, then quietly leaves the room. Smiling, she quickly makes her way to the kitchen, offering up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that Emma’s rest will last long enough for her to eat something; her earlier break having consisted  only of a trip to the privy before Emma became impatient and called her back to bed.

As luck would have it, she manages to prepare herself a small platter _and_ a cup of tea before making her mistake. She raises the cup to her mouth, wanting to savour what she knows will be a very brief respite, but as she inhales, expecting a very specific scent, her nostrils flare with the scent of an altogether different kind.

She groans and it is as if the sound has summoned Emma to her. Her hips dig into the counter as hands snake around her body, cupping her breasts. Emma slides between her thighs and it feels so impossibly good Regina’s only choice is to groan again.

Placing her cup of tea down on the counter, she braces herself against the counter’s top. “You couldn’t let me have five more minutes?”

“Nope.” Emma nips the lobe of her ear and squeezes her breasts. “You are so fucking hot, I can’t help myself.”

Lips parting, a vaguely unkind retort on the tip of her tongue, the words die in favour of a moan as Emma begins a rhythm of shallow thrusts. Regina hangs her head and her eyes slip closed, the feeling of the shaft rubbing between her thighs making her slick almost embarrassingly quick.

“Always so wet for me,” Emma breathes into her ear. She tweaks her nipple before dragging a hand down her stomach and pressing a finger between her folds. “If I weren’t so hard-” she continues, finding her clit and stroking perfect circles around it. “-I’d have you on top of this counter with my tongue buried in your cunt.”

Regina shudders, moaning again at the thought, the desperation to be filled overwhelming her once more. Arms quivering with the effort to keep herself upright, she sinks onto her elbows and pushes her hips back, body begging without words.

Emma takes the hint and enters her swiftly, chest rumbling with a growl slash moan of her own. Regina hisses from between clenched teeth, still a little too sore. She squeezes her eyes shut tighter and demands, “Slow.”

“Sore?” She nods and Emma drops a kiss to her shoulder in silent apology. She removes the hand from her breast, caressing down over her ribs to a hip where her fingers curl, gripping. She whispers, “I’ll make it up to you.”

“I know you will.” She always does, sometimes to the extreme and for the slightest of wrongs- not that Regina will be complaining any time soon. She wiggles her hips. “Get on with it, Princess, before your Queen starves.”


	14. Chapter 14

_Princess,_

 

_I need to sort out a few things before I submit to being at your beck and call indefinitely. I will return soon. If you need me beforehand, I hear exercise helps._

_x_

 

Emma screws up her face and flings the piece of parchment off the bed as she rolls halfway onto her stomach with a groan. Exercise _would_ help, but going for a run? _Now?_ If there wasn’t an alternative, it is exactly what she would have done. It was exactly what she intended to do before Regina made it clear that _she_ was going to be the one to take care of her this time.

With another, louder groan, she flops onto her back, pouting as she stares up at the ceiling. It is a thoroughly selfish thought, but the idea that there is something more important than her to Regina right now is just a little bit upsetting. If she’d been left to deal with this in her usual way, she’d probably be lying somewhere out in the forest; muscles too exhausted to move, eyes too heavy to keep open. She would definitely be in too much pain to give her cock any consideration, or be aware of the way it jumps at the mere thought of Regina.

Huffing, she sits up and glances down at her lap. If she has any hope of surviving this without completely losing her mind, then she’s going to have to do something about it before the heat takes control and forces her to do something she wouldn’t ordinarily do. It wouldn’t be the first time and while she doubts that anything she ever does will compare to said first time, the possibility that she might try to top herself, and may even succeed, is all the motivation she needs.

She rolls over for a third time, straight off the bed. She hits the floor on hands and knees, and stays a moment to convince her body that the pain is a good distraction before she stands up. She stretches, turning in a circle as she scans the floor in an effort to find clothes she swears she had seen yesterday afternoon on her trek to the kitchen.

Spotting them on the chair beside the door, she grins, not surprised Regina had found the time to tidy up. She had passed out a lot since they arrived here at the cottage thanks to Regina and her many, many skills, in and out of bed.

Some of those skills popping to the forefront of her mind, Emma sighs and walks over to the chair. She lets her mind wander as she dresses, incapable of stopping it even if she did want to. As someone who is more than familiar with her own mind, though, she knows there are worse things she could be thinking, and _has_ thought about in the past during her ruts- things she was ashamed of despite never having gone through with them.

Giving a full bodied shudder, she exits the room as she slips her shirt on over her head. She comes to a stop in the middle of the next room, somewhat torn over what to do next. Regina had mentioned there was a stream for bathing nearby that she often used during her own heats because the quiet of bathing inside would _drive her to murder_.

Stood here in the eerie silence of the cottage, Emma can understand and appreciate the desire more than she had at the time; it _is_ ridiculously quiet.

Stepping outside, she breathes in relief upon hearing the birds and the soft ruffle of leaves shaken by the wind. Making her way towards the trees, she wonders when silence had become a problem for her. She used to enjoy it. She used to covet it because it was something rare for the sister of a Queen who liked attention- who threw parties left and right for the sake of gaining said attention.

Living in Oz, she hated noise because it reminded her of extravagant balls she wasn’t allowed to skip, and of court she’d been forced to attend because her sister was- not completely insane, but insanely protective. Despite her penchant for torturing Emma whenever she had the chance, Zelena had rarely, if ever, let Emma out of her sight. It was only after she began making trips to the Enchanted Forest that Zelena finally calmed down, but then she’d been subjected to daily life in the White Kingdom for weeks, sometimes months at a time, and it seemed at the time, there was never a moment where she didn’t long for quiet.

In the Dark Kingdom- in Regina’s Kingdom the longing doesn’t exist. Why, she doesn’t know. Especially given, at times, it is louder here than anywhere else. Then again, Regina doesn’t force her to attend court and if any balls have been thrown since her arrival, then no one had bothered to tell her about them.

With the faint sounds of rushing water reaching her ears, she dismisses the thoughts. Thinking about them is fine when she needs the distraction, but if she starts to analyze the ins and outs of living with Regina and how it’s changing her, she’ll more than likely go mad trying to answer the _whys_ of the matter, which would be counterproductive considering her whole reason for being out here is to ensure her sanity remains intact.

 

...

 

What Regina considers a stream is an understatement equivalent to someone calling the ocean a slightly large pond. For someone whose bath tub would rival said pond, Emma supposes the description might be apt as far as Regina is concerned, but it still manages to amuse her in the way that only Regina can; unexpected, and thoroughly.

Smiling ruefully, she wastes no time in stripping down and diving into the water because she _can_ \- because what Regina calls a stream is deep enough for her to do that without injuring herself.

She resurfaces with a gasp, the water colder than she was expecting. Even as her teeth chatter, though, she notes that the heat she’d been ignoring for the entire length of her walk has been sufficiently extinguished; this knowledge goes a long way in placating the sensible, not-stupid part of her brain that says she should maybe have known better and tested the water before jumping in like an idiot.

Sense kicking in, she begins to move around. She faces the _rushing water_ she’d heard earlier and can’t help but laugh. “A stream with a waterfall,” she muses aloud, head shaking once more. “Really, Regina?”

She half-expects an answer and is a little disappointed when none is forthcoming. She misses her, she realizes, and it’s not as strange as she might’ve thought. While she’s used to missing a place more than a person, it’s understandable that she would miss Regina after any significant length of time considering they’ve spent so much of it together since she returned.

They have, in fact, spent almost all of it together. Short of the occasional trip to the smithy to offer Jon and Galas help, and the two times Regina has held court since she arrived, they’ve barely been apart.

Warming, Emma raises her legs and turns over on her back, letting herself float as she considers the past two weeks. It probably isn’t healthy, but the fact Regina isn’t tired of her yet makes her happier than anything likely ever has. It shouldn’t given that they’re mates and shouldn’t _want_ to spend time with anyone more than each other, but still; a lot of things that should be true where they’re concerned aren’t; why would this be any different?

That it _is_ different is enough to make her grin as a warmth unrelated to the water or the sun forcing its way through the overcast sky to beam down on her gathers in the pit of her stomach. It spreads through her, slowly but surely, coaxing back the thoughts of Regina that she is far more accustomed to.

She recalls hours earlier when she was first woken by those soft, wanton moans and the slick, slippery sucking of Regina pleasuring herself, and her grin widens. She’d been annoyed at first because Regina hadn’t thought to wake her, but then, as she woke up a little more and felt the heat crawling along her skin, she had registered the hand stroking her length.

She was hard, more than ready to sink herself into the wet warmth that waited for her. She had been considering it when Regina moved, sudden and swift. So eager to have Emma in her mouth, Regina didn’t even realize she was awake, jerking when Emma touched the back of her head and released a moan so loud it surprised them both.

It hadn’t taken Regina long to recover.

Emma sighs softly and reaches for her cock as the image of Regina going down on her consumes her thoughts. She recreates the earlier scene as best she can, stroking her length with the same lethargy of just waking up, but without the finesse Regina seems to possess in everything she does.

It works, albeit more slowly than it would have were Regina the one touching her.

Lost in fantasy and the sensation of her thumb rubbing over the tip with every upward caress, she doesn’t register that tell-tale scent or the ground suddenly against her back. She does, however, register the body straddling her thighs and her eyes fly open as the gasp escapes her mouth.

Regina grins down at her, gaze hooded. “Hello dear.”

“Regina,” she croaks, stilling her hand. 

“Please,” Regina purrs as she sways forward, dropping gracefully to her hands. “Don’t stop on my account.” Her stomach brushes against the tip and her eyes flick down between them when Emma groans, thrusting her hips. “Hmm.”

Regina presses down, forcing her back to the ground. She’s careful not to put too much weight onto her cock but it’s enough to pin Emma there as she begins to rock into her.

Forward and back, the coarse feel of her dress against the sensitive head of Emma’s cock is like torture. She’s torn between wanting to throw Regina off and wanting more, the struggle for either too much for her as she accidentally firms her grip and cries out before she quickly releases her cock.

Not in the least bit sympathetic, Regina chuckles but before Emma can take offense, she eases up. Regina raises herself on one hand and reaches down with the other, rucking the skirts of her dress up to her waist before easing herself back down and onto Emma’s waiting shaft.

Mouth falling open with a stuttered moan, Emma arches her back, arms suddenly winding around Regina and pulling her down. Regina hums as she bows her head and claims Emma’s lips, kissing without preamble and sliding her tongue into Emma’s more than willing mouth.

“Fuck,” Emma breathes the second they part, earning herself a deep, husky laugh. She bites her lower lip, letting the sound wash over her before she buries her hands in the skirts of Regina’s dress and tugs it even higher, exposing her ass. She palms her cheeks, gripping them firmly as she growls, “You’re a fucking tease.”

Regina grins slowly, but surely. “Yes,” she confesses, pussy fluttering around her cock. “But I’m _your_ fucking tease,” she adds slyly, nipping at her lips. “And you _love_ it.”

Emma knows there’s no point in denying it, so she does the next best thing and rolls them, thrusting hard as Regina lands on her back and arches her spine with a guttural moan.

An almost feral looking grin twists her mouth but her voice is honeyed and thick. “There she is,” she purrs, winding her legs about Emma’s waist at the same time she grabs the back of her neck, nails sinking into her skin. “You’ve been a little too soft for someone who’s meant to be my Alpha.”

Despite being perfectly aware that Regina is trying to goad her, the insult hits its mark. Upper lip curled in the beginnings of a snarl, Emma bows her head and latches onto her throat, biting down as she thrusts into her even harder.

Regina hums, fingers slipping into her hair and clinging to the back of her head, keeping Emma at her throat. “Do it,” she continues to goad her, breath warm against her ear. “I know you want to… you know _I_ want you to.”

Emma groans and squeezes her eyes shut. She _didn’t_ know, actually. She’s wanted to, ever since she first laid eyes on her if she’s being honest with herself. She had no idea Regina wanted her to- has maybe wanted her to ever since then as well.

Her jaw clenches involuntarily with the thought, drawing a gasp. The faintest hint of blood fills her mouth and she quickly lets go, removing her teeth from the equation but adding her tongue, pressing it to the bite as she sucks flesh into her mouth. Regina says her name like a whine- like she’s disappointed, but Emma doesn’t _care_ . She hasn’t spent a good majority of her life gaining control over her lesser instincts just to lose it now, at a time when it counts the most. She may, at this very moment, be a slave to her cock, but she isn’t an _animal_.

When she marks Regina, and she will, it will be while she is in full control of herself and not because Regina got a rise out of her in the hope of being fucked a little rougher than usual.

Rough, she can do; a fact she assumed she had already proven, but one she is more than happy to prove again, and as often as Regina demands of her.

Pulling her hips back, she thrusts harder and deeper, forcing Regina to cry out and arch yet again. Emma slides an arm under her, draping it across her lower back and clutching at her hip, holding her up as she fucks her faster, pistoning her hips back and forth.

Regina clings to her back, clawing at her skin and no doubt drawing far more blood than Emma had as she writhes beneath her, sharp nails raking down her spine, piercing her flesh. Emma growls, not in warning but pleasure as she begins to bite her, little bits of her control slipping but not enough to do any real damage as she sinks her teeth into whatever skin is available, over and over.

Regina gets louder, her gasping moans drowning out all other sound as Emma’s knot grows with her impending release. She tries to hold back but with every thrust, her restraint dwindles and then she’s inside, Regina’s cunt swallowing her whole as the woman herself attempts her name and chokes on a sob instead.

Soft, wet walls clamp down around her, gripping her tight within silken heat, leaving her no choice but to let go. Her name comes as a rasp, spoken against her ear before she feels the sharp sting of teeth rip into her shoulder.

 

...

 

“I’m sorry.”

Emma starts to laugh. She was expecting a lot when Regina realized what she’d done, but not that. Never that. Sure, she’d pretty much howled in pain in the moment and Regina might be feeling a little bad about it in the aftermath, but the fact biting her had triggered a second orgasm- well; what other proof does she need that Regina isn’t actually sorry at all?

“Sure you are,” she mumbles into the crook of her neck and nips at her pulse. Emma raises her head, one side of her mouth lifting in a grin as she teases, “You’re still twitching.”

Teeth pull at a plump, lower lip before dark eyes roll. “I have a very large, very thick _cock_ inside of me; of course I’m still twitching.”

Her cheeks warm but she isn’t fooled. “Oh yeah?” She raises a brow and lowers her head, their mouths mere inches apart. “Then how come it’s never taken you this long to recover before, huh?”

Regina sighs, offering another eye roll before she threads both hands through her hair. “Fine,” she concedes. “I enjoyed returning the favour. Happy?”

“Sure,” Emma replies, “with the exception that I’ve never tried to take a chunk out of you.” Almost marked her, yes, multiple times in fact, but bitten her so hard blood runs down her arm? Nuh uh. “You’re a savage.”

“Is that a complaint?”

Also no. “Truthfully, I’m impressed,” she admits as she examines the damage. “No ones ever made me howl before,” she says, turning her attention to the woman beneath her.

Regina smirks. “Amateurs.”

Returning the smirk, Emma lowers the rest of the way down and kisses her. Regina hums against her mouth, moving one hand to her shoulder while the other tightens in her hair. Regina traces the bite, skirting around the outside of it before caressing down the length of her back and gripping the cheek of her ass.

Emma’s hips jerk and they both moan. She breaks the kiss. “Ready for more?”

Regina smiles and purrs, “I thought you’d never ask.”


	15. Chapter 15

Where she expects aches, she throbs. Where she should feel a cool breeze, she feels heat licking at her flesh, bringing to mind the burn of a good spirit scorching her throat and warming her belly. Her body is an amalgamation of pleasure and… something. It’s not quite pain, but it’s something close, something intense that has her writhing and wanting to beg for more but also push away whatever is responsible for the sensations crawling over her skin.

It almost, _almost_ feels like she’s at the height of her heat. The second day is always the worst and least controlled of the three; her body over demands, overextends, overheats. It is the day she is most likely to kill if she can’t fuck, overwhelmed by need and want, and lust, be it for blood or sex.

The impossibility of her heat having returned now when her last wasn’t that long ago awakens her fully.

Lids fluttering, Regina opens her eyes and stares up at the darkening sky as her chest heaves. Beyond the fire threatening to consume her, she registers the hands first. They cling to her thighs, keeping her spread, open for the- she groans- for the tongue trying its damnedest to bury itself deep within her cunt.

The last thing she can remember before this is teeth all over her body, marking and claiming and _retaliation_. She remembers wondering if Emma was finally going to give her what she wanted and then, and then she’d come.

Or perhaps _exploded_ would be more apt.

It is, she will now concede, no longer a wonder why Emma possesses so much restraint.

Closing her eyes, she reaches for the head between her legs and grabs a fistful of hair. She pulls in the same moment she thrusts, silencing Emma’s growl before it even truly begins and exchanging it, instead, for the low vibrations of an appreciative moan and the tightening of an already bruising grip.

Emma clutches at her as though afraid she’ll attempt to escape but Regina has zero intention of trying. Now that she knows, now that she _understands_ where these sensations are coming from, she embraces them, meeting each thrust of that beautiful tongue with rolling hips and moaning her pleasure and encouragement.

She tries to hold out as long as she can, but she already knows it won’t last. If the way she’s responding is any indication, then Emma has been at this for a while now. She’d be annoyed if it didn’t feel so good, especially after the lecture Emma gave her when she did this very thing to her this morning.

When her muscles begin to clench in warning, Emma retreats. Regina almost screams in protest, but then that tongue is on her clit, pressing and circling, and flicking. She cries out instead, release hitting with more force than she expects as her back arches painfully.

Coming down from the high, little more than a minute passes before she realizes Emma isn’t done. She doesn’t think she can manage a second one, but the languid strokes as Emma laps at her slit feel too good to stop.

Two, maybe three minutes more elapse. Emma combines her tongue with fingers, caressing her slit, up and down, dipping inside, easing into her before the tongue rolls over her clit, again and again.

With her hand still fisted in Emma’s hair, Regina groans and when she tugs this time, it’s to pull Emma away. Green eyes snap up, curious and confused as they meet her own dark, hooded gaze.

“I know you’re just preparing me,” she croaks. “I want your cock, Emma. Now.”

Emma doesn’t argue or hesitate. She slips the fingers from inside of her and Regina hungrily watches her breasts sway as Emma crawls toward her. The only delay comes when Emma kisses her, but even then it’s little more than a second before she sinks into her with no effort at all and Regina feels the strength of her moan vibrate within the depth of her stomach, the heat erupting and spreading all throughout her body.

She expects to be taken hard and fast, and marvels at her lack of disappointment when that isn’t how Emma has decided to take her. It’s not quick, but nor is it slow and every stroke hits her deep, each one taking her closer to the edge.

Emma’s hips stutter every third or fourth thrust, but it only adds to the pleasure. Regina pushes into her, hoping every time that Emma will somehow find a way to go deeper, moaning when the head of that beautiful cock repeatedly strikes her back wall and reminds her of the impossibility.

The pace picks up a little when Emma is close, panting as she breaks the kiss and buries her face in the crook of Regina’s neck. Regina stops pushing, wrapping her legs around Emma’s waist instead. She resists the desire to beg for Emma’s come and takes matters into her own hands, rhythmically squeezing Emma’s length as she runs her hands all over Emma’s back.

In no time at all Emma is groaning into her neck and mouthing her pulse; tongue painting patterns against her skin, lips and teeth adding more marks to the collection. She comes with a growl and jerk of her hips, slamming into Regina hard as she releases pulse after pulse of thick, hot come.

After what feels like an eternity, Emma falls limp on top of her. Regina relishes the weight, the heat. She wraps her arms around her, a small whimper sounding in her throat when the feeling of being so wonderfully full starts to leave her; first with Emma’s cock softening and, eventually, disappearing, and then all of that delicious heat as it begins to trickle from her centre and seep into the dirt beneath them.

Emma shifts with the sound, exhaling softly into her shoulder before she briefly raises her hips and slides a hand between them. Regina moans appreciation and pleasure as three fingers fill her, and holds more tightly to her mate who, it seems, already knows her so well.

Humming, Emma noses up behind her ear. “I won’t be so considerate tomorrow,” she says, rubbing against the sensitive skin there. “I’m going to be... selfish… and rough,” she continues, placing gentle kisses between the words. “Nothing you say... or do... will stop me from filling that tight... hot pussy of yours over... and over again.”

Breath hitching, eyes narrowing, Regina grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her head up. She growls, “Is that a promise, or a threat?”

“Both,” Emma breathes, head dipping down despite her grip, stealing a kiss. “I’m not going to be able to help myself. I used to hide away, but I know you like it… I know you _want_ me to lose control.”

Regina swallows, fingers loosening their hold. There is no way she can deny it. She’s been trying to get her to lose control since they got here. “I do.”

“I wanted you to know how I like to do it before… so you don’t forget.” Emma sighs, pulling out of her as she rolls from on top of her. She settles beside her, inhales deeply, then admits, “I’m not going to be very nice to you.”

Giving the words time to sink in and her body time to adjust to the feeling of being empty once more, Regina returns her attention to the sky. She has never been with an Alpha during their rut. Graham had known not to come anywhere near her during his; his scent had always sickened her, so even if she’d wanted to help him, she wouldn’t have been able to. She’s heard stories, some from the mouths of her own servants who’d somehow found her Captain’s pheromones far less revolting than she.

Alphas, especially those who were known to lack the most basic control during their everyday lives, could become feral at the height of their time. Some went so far as to lock themselves away, as Emma has just implied she herself has done before now, scared of what they might be capable of.

Perhaps the thought should frighten her. If it were anyone else, it probably would but- but they are mates. All she truly feels at the thought of Emma becoming feral is a low, familiar throb between her thighs.

Confident, she sits up and looks over at Emma who continues to lay there, staring back at her with a guarded expression. Regina smirks and quickly rolls on to her hands and knees, hovering above her and leaning down, stealing a kiss of her own before she teases, “Worry not, Princess; I can handle you.”

 

...

 

After washing themselves down in the stream and figuring out where their clothes had wandered off to, they returned to the cottage. When Emma complained she was hungry, Regina had ordered her to sit and wait, patiently, while she made them something to eat. Emma had spent the following forty minutes watching her in disbelief, apparently incapable of accepting that a Queen- or perhaps simply the fact it was Regina herself -could cook, regardless of what she was seeing.

Twenty minutes later, she leans back in her seat with a content look on her face, and sighs, “You really can cook.”

Regina raises a brow, resisting a smirk as she questions, “You doubted me?”

“No…” At her blank stare, Emma’s expression turns sheepish. She admits, “Maybe a little.”

“Why?”

“It’s just…” She wrinkles her nose. “You’re royalty- I mean, I am too, but I didn’t grow up that way-”

“Nor did I,” Regina interrupts. Not that her mother ever let her behave otherwise. She’d been groomed, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t known what or who she was, or who, in fact, she remains despite current titles to the contrary. “Though I didn’t actually learn until after I became Queen,” she adds.

“So, why?”

“I suppose I didn’t like the idea that there was something I could, but shouldn’t do.” Sipping her wine, she hums, allowing her head to tip backwards and her eyes to close before she continues, tone slipping into something low with the stretch of her throat. “Couple with that the fact my knowing how is considered abnormal for my position, and the fact my mother insisted it was a skill only peasants needed to concern themselves with…”

She hears Emma scoff, and smiles faintly. “The more I learn about your mother-”

“Trust me-” she interrupts her again and tips her head forward, eyes opening as she chuckles. “-you don’t need to finish that sentence.”

Seeing the way Emma now rests, elbow on the table, chin in hand, she frowns. “What?”

Her shoulder rises, then falls; a half-hearted shrug. “You just... looked really peaceful for a minute. It was-” She pauses before shaking her head and releasing a puff of breath. “It can’t still surprise you that merely _looking_ at you transfixes me.”

Feeling her mouth quirk, Regina lets the smile return and widen. “Adorable,” she teases. “And to think, no more than an hour ago you were fucking me into unconsciousness while threatening me with an even better time tomorrow.”

Emma winces. “About that…”

Stomach sinking, Regina takes another drink from her goblet, this one much larger than the last. Those words were never a good sign. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to enjoy what is about to come out of your mouth?”

“I’m kind of hoping you’ll appreciate the warning, assuming you don’t decide to just lock me up like I’d originally planned.”

“Out with it.”

“I uh… might say some things that I know aren’t possible. I won’t be trying to upset you, it’s just-”

“I take it you’re referring to talk of pups and wanting to impregnate me.” With another wince, Emma nods. Regina snorts and reminds, “If you’ll recall, I expressed the same desire during my heat, which prompted a similar conversation, did it not?”

“Oh, I recall.”

Realization dawns and Regina smirks as she places her wine down, rising from her chair. Emma follows her every move, eyes narrowed in suspicion as she rounds the table, then widening in understanding as Emma quickly pushes her own chair back just in time for Regina to settle in her lap, hands brushing over her shoulders and inching around to the back of her neck.

That night- the conversation they had both silently agreed to never speak of again wasn’t the root of Emma’s concern. No, it was what came after, when Emma questioned her decision to make herself infertile. It took her three whole days to figure out how to fix the mirror they used to communicate after she’d shattered it against the wall.

It was, in the end, a good thing, as it had taken her the same length of time to calm down enough to realize Emma had only been curious. They’d made up within minutes of seeing each other again. “Worried I’ll fling you across the room?”

Emma rolls her eyes but she wraps her arms around her waist. “More worried you’ll try and end up hurting yourself, but yeah, a little bit.”

“Hmm.” Regina grins as she leans in for a brief kiss before she pulls back and says, “I could just neuter you again.”

“Please don’t.”

She tilts her head at the way Emma screws up her face, curious as she questions with a frown, “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Emma replies, shaking her head. “I’m just a little weirded out by the fact you’re sitting on me and I’m not hard or trying to rip your dress off yet- imagine the confusion I’d be feeling tomorrow if that happened.”

Regina laughs, able to picture it perfectly. “An amusing image.”

“Laugh it up, Chuckles.”

She snorts. “That’s worse than Queenie.”

Shrugging, Emma reasons, “If you enjoyed my pet names, they wouldn’t be half as entertaining for me.”

“I suppose I can’t disagree, _Princess_.”

A warm, sweet smile curls her mouth. “That’s actually growing on me.”

“Tsk.” Regina pouts. “Always out to ruin my fun.”

Outrage, mock or genuine she can’t quite tell, contorts Emma’s beautiful features. “You magic-chastity belted my dick.”

Again Regina laughs, even going so far as to throw her head back this time. It was less a chastity belt and more a time freeze spell, but just the image of Emma in a chastity belt, looking furious because she can’t get aroused, is so absurd that Regina can’t help herself.

Emma huffs after a moment. “Alright, Cackley, it wasn’t that funny.”

“I beg to differ,” Regina argues, grinning widely as she tips her head forward.

Emma glares at her for all of a few seconds, and then her mouth twitches, eyes rolling. Regina continues to grin as she falls forward and kisses her. She scratches the back of her neck before twisting fingers in her hair, sighing into the kiss as Emma parts her lips and slides into her mouth.

The return of the heat so often rampant in her veins causes her to moan as need coils swift and low in her stomach. As soon as they part, she brings her hands around to Emma’s cheeks and cups her face, thumbs stroking gently beneath her eyes. “What say we remove the spell and I let you take me again before you ruin me tomorrow and I swear off sex for good?”

“Tempting,” Emma murmurs, brushing their lips together. “But I think I’d prefer it if you take _me_ and never, _ever_ swear off sex because I doubt either of us would survive without.”

Grinning against her mouth, Regina kisses her firmly. “I think you might be right,” she agrees. “And you have yourself a deal, Princess.”

 

...

 

Although she had a very vivid fantasy of Emma climbing onto the table and insisting she take her then and there, Regina can’t deny the appeal of being picked up and carried to the bedroom. The reminder of Emma’s strength not only slickens her thighs beneath the skirts of her dress, but it also provides her with an idea of what she has to look forward to tomorrow.

The thought of Emma pinning her to any number of surfaces and forcing her to endure the punishing pace of that magnificent cock has her tearing the clothes from their bodies the moment Emma sets her down. They’re naked within moments, their clothes a little torn and strewn about the floor as she shoves Emma back onto the bed.

Emma’s breathless laughter twists her stomach, but it’s the spread of those long, muscular legs that has Regina joining her, falling between them- on them, mouth finding a smooth, warm thigh. She ignores the protest Emma tries to strangle, letting her think she was successful, well aware she hasn’t yet removed the spell that will allow Emma to become aroused and enjoy all the things she plans on doing to her.

As much as she loves Emma’s cock, this is the first opportunity she’s had to appreciate her pussy without it getting in the way. She kisses a line from one thigh to the next with a small pause in between, lips brushing against lips.

When she looks up, she sees Emma gazing down at her with a soft smile. “Do you miss it?”

She shakes her head. “No,” she adds for good measure, placing a gentle kiss against her thigh. She had never been the type to give pleasure to begin with. Sex was for her benefit and her benefit alone; how could she miss what she’d never had? “Doesn’t mean I can’t be curious.”

Emma grins. “If you wanted to look, you could’ve just asked.”

“That would defeat the purpose of me taking what I want, would it not?” Rising onto hands and knees, Regina crawls over her. “Besides, if you think I believe for a second you could handle my curiosity without the spell stopping that monster from sprouting, then you’re clearly living in a world of delusions.”

The grin widens. “I can’t help that I find you oh so sexy.”

“Luckily for you, I can.” Slipping a hand between their bodies, she reaches down and cups Emma between the legs. “However-” she purrs, tapping into her magic and lifting the spell. “-my curiosity is sated for the time being, and now I think I’d like something else from you.”

It’s a matter of seconds before Emma is long and stiff in her hand. Her fingers curl around the shaft as Emma arches her back and breathes, “It’s yours for the taking, my Queen.”

“I do so love when you oblige me.”

“So all the time, then?”

Regina hums, guiding the tip to her entrance before sinking the entire length into her. Emma moans softly, lids fluttering, throat bobbing. Regina watches her reaction with a smirk, waiting until Emma opens her eyes and gazes up at her before she agrees, “Indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I won't be writing the "tomorrow" they refer to. That kind of sex will have to be up to your guys imaginations. Sorry to disappoint, but I'm only comfortable writing that kind of sex from first person, which this story is not.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this took forever not only because I haven't been well but because I kept trying to force shit that just wasn't working, so I decided to cut that crap out and just go with what worked, which is why this chapter is slightly shorter than the rest have been. It's pretty much all filler because I need them back at the Palace for the plot-related nonsense, mild as it is.

A warm brush of something soft against her cheek pulls Emma from sleep. She blinks her eyes open, head rising slightly from the pillow before it drops straight back down, a smile slowly spreading across her face as she takes in the vision swimming before her. Regina is unspeakably gorgeous upon first waking and she will never, ever, get used to this, but that isn’t going to stop her from trying.

“Good morning, my sweet.”

She hums, letting her eyes slip shut again before they fly open. “Oh.”

Regina chuckles, leaning in. She kisses her softly on the lips and runs a hand down the length of her back. “Save a few more scratches and bruises, we did indeed survive,” she purrs, apparently able to read her mind.

Emma bites at her own bottom lip, cheeks warming. Images from the day before fill her mind. She’s overcome with the need to laugh when she remembers they’d broken a few things, unable to stop her grin even if she’d wanted to try. “I guess I have some work to do around here.”

Dark eyes gaze at her, mirth shining in their depths. “That you do,” Regina agrees and Emma shivers, fingers dancing over the cheek of her ass and down, dipping between her legs and stroking along her inner thigh. “As do I, and before you try, you won’t convince me not to heal these ones.”

No idea what she’s talking about, as nothing currently seems to hurt, Emma frowns. “What are-”

“Your back,” she interjects, dropping a kiss to her shoulder. Regina trails the hand back up along her spine, silent as she traces the prominent and still somewhat sore bite she’d left there two days before. She sighs. “This truly is hideous, dear.”

Resisting an eye roll, Emma murmurs, “So you’ve said.” She doesn’t care. Either it heals naturally, or it doesn’t heal. Either way, she likes the reminder that she’d driven her Queen wild enough for her to have bitten her so savagely. “I won’t argue healing the scratches.”

She hadn’t felt them because she’s barely moved. She knows from experience that if she’d tried to get up, though, she’d be feeling little else. It’s great in the moment but given the frequency Regina uses her claws, and unlike the bite, she neither needs nor wants the constant reminder of them.

“In that case, perhaps I should leave them.”

She doesn’t resist the eye roll this time. Regina likes to be difficult for difficulty sake; it’s not a surprise. “I’d say waiting until they heal before we have sex again is your prerogative, but you’ve already proven more patient than me, so how ‘bout you just be nice to me for once and heal them anyway?”

She yelps, not quite loud enough to drown out the crack of the hand against her ass. “I am nice to you far more frequently than  _ that _ ,” Regina growls as she palms the cheek she’d just smacked. “Anyone else would run screaming at the sight of that beast you call a cock, but do I? No; I stroke it, lick it, suck it, ride it...”

Squeezing her eyes shut, swallowing roughly, Emma tries to ease the sudden pressure between her thighs as she shifts her weight from her stomach to her side and croaks, “Speaking of.”

Stroking up and over her hip, Regina tuts as she reaches beneath her, fingers curling around her length. “Roll over before you hurt the poor thing.”

Laughing breathily, Emma does as she’s told and flops onto her back. “I’m beginning to think it’s the only reason you like me,” she teases. Monster, beast; Regina can exaggerate all she likes, but she isn’t fooling anyone.

“Not quite.” With a tug that has Emma raising her hips with a whimper, Regina adds, “Your mouth deserves at least some of the credit.”

Tempted to ask when this  _ being nice _ thing is going to start, the words are on the tip of Emma’s tongue when Regina begins to stroke her. She groans, her lids fluttering as she darts out a hand and grips Regina’s thigh.

“Much as I would love to have you inside me again,” Regina murmurs as she spreads her legs. “I think it best we refrain for a few days.”

Emma nods quickly, stilling her hand in case even her fingers are too much. She breathes, “You okay?”

“Mmm, more than.” Lips caress her uninjured shoulder, teeth grazing her skin before nibbling along her collarbone. “You can still touch me.”

Blinking rapidly, it takes Emma a minute to register the words. “Thank f-” She stutters to a stop, the next stroke of that wonderful hand ending with a squeeze that leaves her temporarily breathless. 

Recovering, she moans and quickly slides her fingers between warm, wet folds. Regina hums, lips gliding to her neck before parting, wrapping around her pulse and sucking it into a hot mouth. Regina spends the next couple of minutes marking her; licking and nibbling, and sucking and biting until her skin feels sensitive and bruised. 

Emma rubs her clit, hoping, and smiling when Regina raises her head, eyes narrowing in a glare Emma is certain could kill, if it so pleased. “Kiss me.”

Gaze impossibly darker, Regina leans in and captures her lips, biting viciously at the lower one. Emma whimpers, enjoying the sting, and then the tongue thrusting into her mouth as Regina tries to devour her whole.

Slick heat coats her fingers, tempting her with what could be, though she dismisses the thought as soon as it forms. Mostly. She does roll to her side, ignoring the growl Regina gives as the new position forces her to stop mid-stroke. Emma continues kissing her, sliding into her mouth in the same moment she slips the hand from between her legs, grabs her ass, and pulls them flush.

Regina gasp-groans, breaking the kiss with a whine of her name as her cock glides effortlessly into place. Nestled within slippery warmth, Emma rocks her hips, back and forth, thrusts shallow but with obvious intent. She presses forward and reclaims Regina’s mouth.

Regina kisses her hungrily, yanking the hand out from between them and using it to grip her hair in a tight fist. She rolls into every thrust, moaning, thighs clenching, driving Emma crazy.

Parting a second time, Regina emits a sound unlike any Emma has heard yet, cross between a growl and a sob, and maybe a swear? She didn’t quite hear any word, so much as she’d felt one, though whatever it was, she isn’t given the time to consider it before Regina is ripping the hand from her hair and shoving it back between them, cupping the underside of her cock, hips shifting, fingers pressing.

Emma sucks in a breath as tight, silken heat engulfs the head of her cock. Regina moans, still cupping her, keeping her in place. She rocks into her, taking just a little more before stopping, squeezing, moaning some more, and then coming so hard the force of her arch almost pushes Emma onto her back.

Speechless, Emma curls an arm around her waist as Regina buries her face in a shoulder and shudders against her. She didn’t come, but she can feel herself softening as if she had. Regina makes another sound, this one familiar; a kind of protest that needs no words.

Emma is about to tell her it’s fine when Regina wriggles her hips, taking another inch or two. Emma hardens instantly and swallows back the assurance. “Neat trick,” she says instead, feeling Regina smirk against her skin before she raises her head.

“I’m not done with you, Princess.”

 

…

 

The heat dies down sooner than Emma expects. It’s not  _ supposed _ to- at least, it hasn’t before. It remains to a degree, but it’s left her feeling more affectionate than aroused and she can’t quite seem to let go of Regina for more than a few seconds at a time. Regina doesn’t mind, so far, and Emma is hardly going to  _ complain _ , but the question of  _ why _ is more than simply a passing thought.

Of course, it’s not the only thought. The fact Regina doesn’t mind means there are quite a few things going through her head, the most prominent of which is how unbelievably  _ soft _ Regina seems to be. It’s as though Emma’s hands are somehow more sensitive than usual and every pass over warm, olive skin is magnified. She can’t stop stroking- feeling, caressing; she’d tried once because she was hungry and wanted food, but Regina had whimpered as soon as she pried her hands away and Emma had immediately responded, returning to her before she was able to completely leave the bed.

Regina has long since fallen asleep, face buried in her chest, an arm curled around her hip, leg thrown over her thigh. The way she clings to her has Emma feeling a plethora of things; satisfied, content, proud, and extremely fucking confused. She knows that satisfying a rut with her mate is meant to be different, but this is just ridiculous.

She’s going to starve to death because she’d rather cuddle.

Puffing out a breath, she closes her eyes as she follows the notches of a spine with the tips of her fingers, hoping that maybe if she falls asleep too, she can ignore the noises from her stomach. 

As if protesting such wishful thinking, her stomach growls, loud against the silence surrounding them. She sighs, forcing her eyes open as she removes her hand from Regina’s back and reaches for the arm across her waist. It tightens at her touch, as does the leg, and she groans at the wetness suddenly painting her thigh.

“Regina,” she whines, grimacing because she hadn’t meant to sound quite so pathetic. There’s a grumble but aside from that, Regina remains oblivious to her plight. Emma pouts. “Great, I’m going to die of starvation because Her Majesty thinks I’m a teddy bear.”

“And you call me dramatic,” comes the mumble from her chest. She twitches, surprised, before the arm loosens around her waist and a hand trails down, over the cheek of her ass to the back of her thigh, pushing. “Make me come, then you can eat.”

Stifling a laugh, she bites the inside of her cheek and rolls her eyes. “Was I just promoted from teddy bear to sex toy?” She questions, reaching for the leg and tugging it up to her waist as she presses her thigh hard against Regina’s cunt. “What happened to being too sore?”

Regina hums and rolls her hips. She doesn’t answer, instead mouthing the top of Emma’s breast. Smiling to herself, Emma tangles a hand in her hair. She enjoys the sensation but there’s no response from down below. She wonders how Regina is going to feel about that once she’s done taking her pleasure.

Will she be offended? Indifferent? Is she already somehow aware, and that’s why she didn’t mind the cuddling?

Emma really wouldn’t put it passed her; to know something she doesn’t, especially when it pertains to herself. Regina is almost disturbingly perceptive, and not so disturbingly smart.

Shaking her head, dismissing the thoughts, Emma decides not to draw her attention to the fact regardless. She murmurs her name, drawing a dark, hooded gaze instead. She scoots down, connecting their lips and silencing what she expects might have been a protest for removing her leg as she rolls them.

Before losing herself to a hot mouth and talented tongue, she kisses a path down the long, slender throat of her mate, nipping and sucking wherever causes the most sound; deep moans, soft whimpers and pleasured sobs filling her ears. 

She ignores the hands in her hair as they attempt to guide her, continuing down passed hard, dusky peaks, teeth grazing ribs, down a stomach that clenches and squirms beneath her mouth.

She ignores the nails piercing her scalp, biting into a hip and drawing the most beautiful of cries before soothing the pain with the slow, languid strokes of her tongue.

She ignores the plea of her name and any other attempt Regina makes at trying to take control, knowing they are borne purely from impatience- knowing  _ exactly _ what Regina needs- what  _ her Queen _ needs.

She teases from hip to hip, paying close attention to the smattering of bruises on each, their shape suspiciously like those of fingers. She traces them all with the tip of her tongue, worshipping skin and offering up the only kind of apology Regina will permit, arching into her mouth with wanton moans and breathless acceptance.

Emma smiles and settles herself between warm, smooth thighs, a hand on each as they spread for her willingly. Regina’s scent beckons and she follows it gladly, mouthing hot, swollen flesh and dragging her tongue through slick, hot folds while relishing her name; uttered into the air in a tone one might consider relieved- grateful, even.

 

…

 

“I’m impressed.”

Straightening from the table she’d just finished repairing, Emma turns with a smirk. She leans back against it and folds her arms across her chest, tone teasing when she says, “I guess my job here is done, then.”

Regina clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she saunters closer. “Not quite,” she disagrees, grinning. She nudges a knee with her own and waits until Emma parts her legs before stepping between them, arms going around her neck. “We still need to test its sturdiness.”

Laughing, Emma uncrosses her arms, hands sliding over hips. She grips them firmly, leaning forward as she questions, “Isn’t that how we got into this mess to begin with?” She doesn’t remember everything, what with the lust clouding her mind at the time and all, but she remembers enough to know it was during one of their quicker, rougher moments that they’d broken the table to begin with. “The carriage will be here soon.”

Regina grimaces, unwinding one arm to backhand her in the stomach. “I still can’t believe you finished early.” She shakes her head. “Either you have less stamina than I thought, or I should be offended.”

Emma raises an eyebrow. Neither of those options sound all that good to her. She shrugs and says, “Maybe you’re just too much for me.”

“Hmm.” Hand curling around her neck, Regina tugs her forward, away from the table and into a deep, passionate kiss. Emma grins, dazed when they part and Regina murmurs, “You’re lucky I enjoy having my ego stroked; such lies you tell.”

“Fair’s fair,” Emma replies, squeezing hips before moving her hands to Regina’s back. “You stroke mine often enough.”

“That’s not all I stroke.” 

As she laughs, Regina darts in and kisses her again. Smiling against her mouth, Emma wraps her arms around her, holding her close. She is stupidly fond of this woman- adores her like no other, no longer fooled by the facade of the Evil Queen that everyone else, bar a small few, fears.

Humming when they next part, she confesses, “I think I might be falling for you, Your Majesty.”

There’s no hesitation, only a grin when Regina looks her in the eye and warns, “Unless you’d like to spend the rest of your days in my dungeons, you damn well better be, Princess.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not look at the end note if you don't want the chapter spoiled. It's an end note for a reason, doofus.

Their return to the Palace is strange, to say the least; from the moment Regina enters the carriage with Emma, who remains suspiciously silent during the ride, to when she exits the carriage to find at least a quarter of her staff standing at the bottom of the steps, as if to welcome her back. It is not unheard of for them to do so, but considering she had returned that first day and informed them _not_ to, their disobedience not only irritates her but is an obvious sign that something is wrong.

“Welcome back, Your Majesty.”

The voice only confirms it. Her lip curls as she looks up passed her staff to the woman stood above them; a guard, and not one of her own. “Merida,” she snarls. Her presence can mean only one, impossible, thing. “Mother’s doing, I take it?”

The woman’s mouth quirks. “She thought you’d appreciate knowing you were missed.”

Regina growls, ready to launch herself across the courtyard and up the stairs to strangle her mother’s little pet. She calms, however, beneath the hand on her shoulder, amusement pricking at her mouth after the not so subtle cough from behind her.

She moves aside, turning just enough to watch as Emma steps down from the carriage. Her amusement only grows when Emma then snakes an arm around her waist and looks up at the woman, brow raised in a way Regina struggles to find unappealing. “I believe she was a little too preoccupied enjoying my company to care if she was missed by the _help_.”

Regina bites the inside of her cheek to stifle a laugh. It’s cocky and a little too presumptuous given they’re in public. It’s also not very Emma- not in her experience. Despite that, she can’t help but be delighted by the familiar flash of annoyance that crosses the woman’s face; angering her mother, along with her pets, has always been a favourite past-time.

“Speaking of the help,” she drawls, “where is mother? Don’t tell me she’s still suffering from delusions of grandeur and refusing to consort with the rest of the peasants in welcoming back her Queen.”

Even from a distance, she can clearly see the ripple of a jaw and the flare of nostrils before Merida responds. “Her Majesty, Cora, awaits you both in the drawing room.”

Her inclusion of Emma causes Regina to frown, whereas Emma simply repeats, “Both?”

“Yes, little Princess; she’s been looking forward to meeting you since you arrived.” Merida smiles a little too sweetly and adds, “I’m sure you have nothing to fear.”

Emma snorts. “The only thing I fear is not being able to control my desire to punch her in the throat.”

The smile vanishes. “I wouldn’t advise it.”

“And I wouldn’t advise antagonizing the Queen whose domain you reside in-” Emma retorts, offering a smile of her own. “-but you’re clearly an idiot, so why bother paying you any attention at all?”

Regina allows herself to chuckle at that. “Well said,” she murmurs, dismissing the glare she receives and turning her own attention to her staff. “Since you all seem to be under the impression that my mother’s orders overrule my own, I suggest you approach her, get down on your knees, and beg to join her staff because, as of this very moment, you are no longer members of mine.”

Uninterested in listening to their outrage, she sweeps her arm through the air and pushes them aside before slipping her other arm around Emma and guiding her over to the stairs. They ascend, walking straight passed Merida and entering the Palace without another word said between them.

They pass a number of turns and doors before Regina pauses beside one door in particular and pushes it open. She gestures for Emma to enter before entering the room herself and closing the door behind them.

Emma glances around the empty space, then turns on her heel, brow furrowed. “Why?”

“I thought I should give you the opportunity to... pass on whatever it is my mother is planning for the both of us,” Regina explains. “I don’t imagine her getting very far with either of us, but even minimal exposure to her can be… rage inducing.”

“Is that what you want, for me to pass?” She shakes her head and with a lopsided grin, Emma steps up to her. “Then I won’t,” she says. “Besides, it was only a matter of time before I met her anyway; might as well get it over with.”

Regina sighs. Were it up to her, the two of them would never meet and her mother would finally accept that she wants nothing to do with her, and leave her alone. Alas, after all this time, she supposes that is no more than wishful thinking. It’s been almost four decades since she’d banished Cora to Wonderland, and the woman has been relentless ever since; harassing her at every turn and trying to win her forgiveness by any means necessary- many of her methods considered insane even by a crazy person’s standards.

Groaning, Regina sways forward and buries her face in a shoulder when Emma catches her. “You’re going to want to kill her,” she warns. “Frequently.”

“You’d be surprised by how often I want to kill people,” Emma murmurs and Regina raises her head, eyes noticeably wider than they should be. Emma grins. “See.”

“I won’t deny I’m surprised, though I think intrigued may be more accurate.” Regina tilts her head, definitely more than a little curious. She says, “You’ve never struck me as the violent type.”

Emma shrugs and admits, “I’m not, which is why I’ve never gone through with it- doesn’t mean I don’t find the idea appealing every once in a while.”

“It’s that legendary restraint of yours,” Regina sighs again, this time in feigned disappointment. “You’d be perfect otherwise.”

Chuckling, Emma bows her head and kisses her softly before murmuring, “Screw you, Your Majesty.”

“You wish, Your Highness,” Regina counters, kissing her back before she pulls away with another heavier and much more dramatic sigh. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

Grabbing her hand and entwining their fingers, she turns and tugs the door open a bit more forcefully than necessary, leaving it to slam against the wall as she raises her chin and saunters out into the hall, making Emma laugh.

After a few steps, Emma pulls her back lightly and they walk side by side. Leaning into her, their shoulders brushing, she murmurs, “Is this foreshadowing?” Regina frowns, glancing at her quizzically, and Emma grins, elaborating, “You’re usually this dramatic after sex, not before.”

Regina smirks. In spite of the impending headache, she _is_ feeling a touch amorous. It is a feeling that grows more common each day; a fact that is solely Emma’s fault, she’s certain. “Perhaps.”

 

...

 

They make a brief stop at the kitchens for the mead Emma likes before finally arriving outside the drawing room. With only a small pause to brace herself, Regina pushes through the doors and strides into the room. She intends to provide its occupants no more than a token glance, only to realize there are a lot more of them than she was expecting.

Her mother sits in her favourite chair, because of course she does; Merida at Cora’s side. Her father sits across from them with Jonathan seated beside him, and on the settee, where her and Emma have spent quite a few of their nights winding down, sits Zelena, as well as a blonde woman Regina doesn’t recognize.

Looking back at Emma, she questions, “What have I told you about inviting strange people into our home?”

Emma blinks slowly, then drawls, “Inform you beforehand so you have time to plan a convenient trip out of the realm?”

Regina hums, amused _and_ thoughtful. “Now there’s an idea.”

“Really, Regina, you’ve had nearly forty years to grow out of that habit.”

She grimaces. She’d been looking forward to seeing how her mother would attempt to communicate with her without a voice. “Well,” she says, “my day has officially been ruined.” She glares accusingly at Zelena. “ _Thank you_.”

Zelena shrugs. “You’re the one who likes to use blood magic for everything.” She adds, “Besides, you _should_ be thanking me; better her voice than the enchanted bloody puppet _I_ had to put up with. It was driving me nuts.”

“And her voice doesn’t?”

Cora huffs. “Honestly.”

“How does that work?” Emma interjects. “The blood magic, I mean, not the puppet; don’t you share the same blood?”

Hearing the curiosity in her tone, Regina smiles affectionately. She’d almost forgotten Emma was just starting to learn about magic. “Yes, but blood magic is a little more difficult than normal magic- it isn’t simply a matter of adding your blood to a spell, and Mother never bothered to learn, as she thought it too _primitive_ a school.”

“Well that was dumb of her.”

Beyond delighted by the sudden fury on her mother’s face, Regina chuckles. “Indeed,” she agrees, meeting her mother’s glare with a smirk.

Silence surrounds them for but a brief second, breaking when Emma jokes, “Did it just get really cold in here, or is that just me?”

“I hear it’s typical of their interactions,” Zelena replies.

At that, Regina ends the stare down with her mother, peering first over at her father before turning her attention to her sister and raising a brow. “Father telling tales again?”

“He’s practically a library when it comes to you, little sister.”

_Little sister?_

Regina shakes her head. “Absolutely not,” she says, fixing Zelena with a glare of her own while pointing to her father. “We will be speaking about this later.”

“Of course, preciosa.”

She turns the glare on him, more than familiar with the amusement in his voice, which he confirms with a grin. She deflates with the thought that she should have murdered him when she had the chance, and pouts inwardly.

Outwardly, she rolls her eyes. “Enough of this; what do I need to do to get you all to leave?”

Multiple voices rise to answer her at once.

She sighs.

Emma shifts beside her, reminding her of her presence, and Regina drops her head to a shoulder as an arm returns to her waist. She murmurs, “Would you support my setting fire to this room and magicking us to our bedchamber?”

Emma squeezes her hip. “Sure, assuming we save Jay, your father and Glinda beforehand.”

Regina groans, head rolling until her chin rests on the shoulder instead. She stares, already tempted by Emma’s stupidly chiseled jaw, as she says, “And to think I was about to confess my love to you.”

She watches the corner of that beautiful mouth lift, the dimple in Emma’s cheek sending a flutter through her. Ever so slowly, Emma turns her head, her smirk far too attractive for Regina’s own good. “It’s fortunate, then, that I’m so patient,” she replies before raising a hand to her mouth, hooking thumb and forefinger between her lips, and releasing a loud, ear-piercing whistle.

Regina jerks, not expecting the sound, but especially not expecting the intense throb of arousal it causes. Emma grins a proud, knowing little grin before gesturing to their- now silent, Regina notes -audience. “Might wanna deal with that first.”

Taking a breath, she waits a handful of seconds before she looks, and immediately tries not to cringe. Having all of these eyes on them is bad enough, but she has a feeling the small, indulgent smile Zelena wears is going to be a whole lot worse.

She can see a lot of teasing in her future; assuming she doesn’t murder them all first.

After a moment, in which she fails to straighten or even attempt to move away from Emma, she feels those warm, soft lips against the side of her head. “Talk to Zelena,” Emma says low enough for the rest of them not to hear. “She needs help with a spell of some kind- your mother only claims to miss you, and Jay is apparently starving after being forced to wait for us before Dorothea would feed anyone.”

Regina snorts, but she raises her head to gaze curiously at her mate. “You heard all of that among the noise?” Emma nods, smiling. “I’m definitely keeping you.”

With another squeeze of her hip, Emma smiles even wider and steps away. Regina strangles a sound of protest as she straightens, gaze falling to Zelena. “You may stay,” she says before peering around the room. “The rest of you should find your way to the dining hall where we will join you momentarily.”

Catching the movement from the corner of her eye as Emma turns to leave, she shoots out a hand before realizing Emma is too far and summoning her magic, grabbing the back of Emma’s shirt in an invisible fist. “Not you.”

Releasing her, Emma spins back around and glances between them, brow furrowed. “Uh, I don’t think she-”

“I don’t care,” Regina interrupts. If Zelena wishes her help, then there are things she’s going to have to accept. “You are the only reason I have to help her and if I say you stay, then you stay.”

 

...

 

Emma stays, offering nothing more than a shrug to Zelena as she takes her seat. Regina passes her a goblet full of mead before sitting beside her, her own goblet filled to the brim with spiced wine. She sips, humming her pleasure as she returns her head to Emma’s shoulder.

“Will Glinda be alright?”

Zelena stares, seeming momentarily mute before Regina prompts her with a raised brow. “Gli- oh, yes.” Zelena chuckles. “She’s taken a shine to Henry and Jonathan both. I assume the three of them will spend their time irritating mother.”

“Before you ask,” she continues, flashing Regina a grin when she closes her mouth. “I went to her first because I didn’t want to intrude on Emma’s time with you.” Zelena wrinkles her nose. “She was beyond useless, but I did have to strike a deal with her before she agreed to tell me what little she could; hence why she’s here now.”

“And just how long have you all been here?”

“Today marks the third day, and yes, your guard… Lenora, was it?” Regina hums an affirmative and Zelena nods. “She was eager to inform you, but mother threatened her. She assumed, rightly I imagine, that you would extend your holiday if you knew she was here- I believe the fact Lenora listened to her is what spurred her into pushing her luck with that display in the courtyard.”

Regina grimaces at the reminder. “Well if her intention was to get them all fired, then she succeeded.”

Zelena shrugs. “For all I know, it was. The woman baffles me as much as she annoys the shit out of me.” Gesturing, she floats the decanter beside Regina over to her and pours herself a drink as she adds, “I realize you had plenty of reason to do so, but I’d have banished her for that alone.”

“You realize?” Regina repeats. “More of father’s tales, I take it?”

“Henry isn’t the only one with stories,” Zelena denies, her smile faint. “I’ve been… curious throughout the years, more especially when Emma here began to show an interest in finding out more about her biological parents. I’ve always known our mother wasn’t the woman who gave birth to me, but it wasn’t until father lay on his deathbed that he told me about Cora.”

It’s then that Emma finally speaks. “You never told me that.”

“It never seemed all that relevant,” Zelena reasons, shrugging once more. “I couldn’t have imagined the sister I grew up with would end up being mated to the one I didn’t, and before you two met, I had no intention of revealing what I knew.”

“But you revealed yourself to mother,” Regina points out, frowning.

Zelena shakes her head. “No, she revealed herself to me some years ago after you took her voice. She wanted me to remove the spell.” She laughs suddenly. “Unfortunately for her, it is, apparently, more difficult to manipulate your children when your only avenue of speech is writing things down,” she explains before sighing. “Once she started using that damn puppet, I really had no choice.”

At the mention of the puppet again, Regina considers a number of possibilities of what said puppet might entail with her mother involved in its creation, and shudders, certain that anything she could dream up would pale in comparison.  She raises her head, taking another sip of her wine before she concedes, “I suppose I should be grateful you spared me that, at least.”

The gleeful expression Zelena answers her with says she _was_ about to regret her comment. Fortunately for her, Emma decides they’ve been distracted long enough and interrupts Zelena’s next words. “Interesting as this, I think we’ve gotten off track a bit,” she says, glancing at Regina when she adds, “Jay is probably gnawing at a table leg as we speak.”

Regina smiles as the image appears in her mind. She can picture it perfectly, if only because Jonathan has proven to be just as, if not more so, dramatic than herself. The thought, as a whole, amuses her greatly; her father, and possibly Glinda, encouraging Jonathan’s theatrics while her mother and Merida look on in what is likely exasperation.

Perhaps her day isn’t so ruined after all.

“Emma is right,” she says, holding up a hand before Emma can open her mouth and express the meaning behind the sudden sparkle in her eye. “I will not be repeating that… likely ever again.” A pale, lower lip protrudes and she leans in, incapable of stopping herself from kissing the pout away before turning her attention to Zelena, and ignoring that shit-eating grin. “Emma says you mentioned something about a spell?”

The grin quickly fades as Zelena’s expression sobers. “Right…” She releases a puff of breath before taking a far healthier swallow of her own wine. She sits forward then, somewhat startling Regina when she sets her goblet on the table between them with a bit too much force. “Glinda and I… we’ve been trying to have a child.”

“You have?”

“We have,” she confirms, eyes drifting to Emma as she explains, “Unfortunately, I seem to be- well… I was hoping Regina…” Head shaking, she looks back to Regina and continues, “I was hoping that you might know something about fertility magic- mother was rather insistent that you’d be able to help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People have asked about Glinda and Zelena before, so I figured this was the best time to introduce their little, and quite frankly unnecessary, storyline that I had actually planned from the beginning. Yes, I planned something, shocking. I also planned including Cora, but wasn't 100% sure on how I wanted to go about it... until about 3 chapters ago when I decide she was going to be a part of the main plot.
> 
> No, she won't be THE villain, but she will probably still be a gigantic asshole that Regina wants to kill, repeatedly, throughout the rest of the fic.
> 
> Last but not least, the inclusion of plot will probably reduce the amount of sex I write, but I have been known to be wrong about these sorts of things, so if that bothers you, have faith in the fact I'm a complete bitch to my muse and what I say rarely ever takes precedent.


	18. Chapter 18

Emma braces herself the moment Zelena leaves the room. Regina waits a full two seconds after the door closes behind her to start ranting about their mother. Were it anyone else, Emma would be struggling not to laugh but because it’s her mate, she can feel the anger growing as every word venomously spat, from an otherwise perfectly wonderful mouth, adds fuel to the fire.

The temptation not to intervene is strong. If anyone deserves the rearrangement of their face, she can think of no one more deserving than Cora. Unfortunately, something tells her Regina may regret doing the very unspeakable things she’s threatening to do, and that is reason enough- if not the _only_ reason Emma can think of -to try and calm Regina down.

Their time away had taught her a number of things; the most interesting of which is the fact that she can distract Regina from pretty much anything with just the smallest, barest hint that she might be aroused. She may not have been entirely cognizant during the time, but she does recall quite a few instances where Regina had wanted a break (usually because she was hungry or tired) only to be lured back to bed by even the faintest scent of desire.

Grinning to herself, Emma sinks back in her seat. Arousal, when in the presence of her Queen- with all of these memories and all of this _knowledge_ , is not a difficult task. The anger Regina projects certainly doesn’t hurt, especially not when it reminds her of the day before when she’d been made to work for Regina’s submission.

Eyes slipping shut, she hums softly, deep in the back of her throat. As an Alpha, it should have enraged her, but it hadn’t, nor does it now as she feels the telling throb low in her belly. It had certainly surprised her, but even her barely-more-than-an-animal brain was able to reason that a Queen, a Queen who is her mate no less, _should_ command and be given the respect she deserves.

Regina had submitted in the end, but only after Emma had proven herself worthy, over and ov-

“Emma…” Startled, she quickly opens her eyes. “I was _busy_ , Emma.”

Sucking her lower lip into her mouth, she tries not to smile at the pout Regina wears and the slight whine in her voice. She waits and slowly, ever so slowly, she watches those slightly narrowed eyes slip down passed her chest and into her lap where she knows she is already so very hard.

A tongue flicks across a lower lip before she registers the movement of the hand as Regina rubs her stomach, as if to dismiss the arousal growing there. Looking back up into those eyes, Emma grins at the familiar, dazed expression on that perfect face, then blinks, and it’s gone.

“Trying to cheer me up?”

“That depends,” she replies. “Will it work?”

Regina stalks forward. “Why don’t we find out?” She reaches for the laces at her back and tugs them free with almost no effort at all, dress falling from her shoulders in the time it takes Emma to process the fact they’re actually going to do this despite their guests. “Well? Are you going to take it out or not?”

Her eyes widen at the impatient tone and she quickly raises her hips, unbuttoning her trousers before shoving them down her thighs. Regina hums as she climbs into her lap and rubs wet heat against the underside of her cock, purring as she runs her fingers through Emma’s hair and pulls her into a kiss.

Emma groans against her mouth. That Regina didn’t immediately mount her means she intends to draw it out. Emma whimpers at the thought, and again when it occurs to her that it’s entirely possible Regina has actually forgotten there are people waiting for them. She wouldn’t mind ordinarily, but as one of those people is Zelena who isn’t exactly known for her patience, or her respect for other people’s privacy… well.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, she grabs Regina by the hips, stilling her a moment. “Did you-”

Regina doesn’t even let her finish. “No,” she says before she surges forward to reclaim her mouth.

Emma moans, freely surrendering right up until reason reasserts itself and she tears her mouth away. “We need to-”

“Shhh.”

Her face contorts in offense at being shushed. She tries to protest, “Di-”

Regina silences her once again, this time with a finger against her lips. “The more you interrupt me, the longer this takes,” she reasons and leans in, kissing the corner of her mouth. She kisses her cheek next, and then trails those lips to her ear, nibbling at the lobe. “Let me enjoy myself, Em-ma.”

Something closely resembling a whine sticks in Emma’s throat. It’s all she _has_ done since she arrived. “Don’t I always?”

“Yes.” Regina sighs and leans back, lower lip extended in a pout. “Which begs the question; why do you hate me all of a sudden?”

Strangling a laugh, Emma snorts and shakes her head. “You really are the biggest fucking drama queen I’ve ever met.” Kissing her and silencing the retort that no doubt lay on the tip of her tongue, Emma smiles as she explains, “I don’t hate you, I just hate the thought of having to stop when someone inevitably gets tired of waiting and comes looking for us.”

“I hope it’s Merida.” Emma frowns and Regina grins, shoulder rising a little when she elaborates, “I’ve always wanted to set her on fire.”

Emma chuckles. She almost chokes though, her breath hitching when Regina reaches between them and grips her length. It always feels good, and it always surprises her because Regina is anything but gentle with her. Regina handles her cock like it’s a possession- like she’s perfectly entitled and not all that averse to damaging what she considers _her_ property if the need should arise.

She hasn’t had cause so far, and Emma doubts she ever will, but it still manages to send a frisson of fear mixed with plenty of anticipation and excitement in a rush down her spine.

“May we continue now?” Regina gazes at her, as if daring her to say no. “Or shall I look for my satisfaction elsewhere?”

The mere thought of her going to someone else drives reason from Emma’s mind and she reaches for the hand gripping her so tightly, fingers clasping a wrist. She tugs, stifling a moan when all it does is cause Regina to squeeze, a brow raised and a smirk on her lips. “Let go,” she growls.

“No.”

Eyes narrowing, Emma releases her wrist and grabs her hips, fingers digging in, hard enough to bruise. Regina’s breath hitches a split-second before Emma flips her over onto her back. It is enough to loosen her grip and wasting no time at all, Emma replaces the hand with her own, ignoring lips that part in an attempt to speak as she lines herself up and enters Regina in a single, swift thrust.

Whatever Regina was about to say is lost in a choked gasp and Emma stills, the realization sinking in too late; Regina is tight- _too_ tight. She accepts the thump of a fist against her shoulder, and then another, before she lowers her head. She kisses across the sharp line of Regina’s jaw, all the way to an ear where she murmurs her apology as she pushes a hand between them and gently begins to stroke her clit.

Second by second, stroke by stroke, Regina grows wetter. A sigh, deep but not unhappy, warms Emma’s cheek and the fists flatten, smoothing over her shoulders and around to her neck where they separate; the fingers of one sliding into her hair while the other glides down her back.

“Brute.” Smiling at the affection she hears, Emma rubs her lips and nose against a cheek. Regina smacks her ass and demands, “Move before I decide to send you to the dungeons.”

Obeying, Emma raises her hips, pulling out slow and pushing right back in, breath hitching because Regina always feels so _good_. She wonders if she’ll ever get used to the sensation, but she still has enough sense to hope not.

She quickens her pace just a little- just enough to draw out a moan that causes her cock to harden further, which draws out another to rival her own. Regina wraps around her, one arm around her neck and one across her back, fingers gripping her ribs as thighs; hot and smooth as silk, embrace her hips.

Teeth nip at the lobe of her ear and she turns her head, lips parting, already close to panting when Regina claims her kiss. What resolve Emma has left dissolves the moment the tongue slips into her mouth and it’s as if her hips gain a mind of their own, pumping faster, harder and deeper than she intends.

When they break for air, it’s already too late to stop. She arches her back with the power of her thrusts and tips her head back with a groan as the move forces Regina to let her go- to grab at sensitive breasts with less than sympathetic hands. Regina tweaks her nipples roughly, as if retaliating, and Emma cries out, slamming into her hard and coming before she even realizes she’s close.

Her head snaps forward, eyes wide, not quite believing it happened _while_ it’s still happening. Regina merely gazes up at her from beneath hooded lids, mouth quirked with a small, satisfied grin as she continues to roll her hips, ensuring Emma fills her with everything she has.

The very second she collapses on top of her, Regina starts to laugh. Emma tries to be offended but the laughter is warm- warmer than her cheeks as embarrassment washes over her. So she settles, burying her face in the crook of Regina’s neck as she enjoys the sound and waits for some semblance of strength to return to her limbs.

When it does, she tries to rise. She gets as far as her hands and knees before Regina grabs the back of her head, eyes narrowed as she questions, “And where do you think you’re going?”

A tingle of fear and an unhealthy dose of arousal, considering, stops Emma cold. She frowns down at her. “Uh.” She knows the look. She knows the voice. She also knows- remembers- that there are people out there waiting for them. “Lunch?”

“Really,” Regina drawls as she releases her head and the hand falls to her shoulder. Nails sink into her flesh, pain sharp. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Emma swallows thickly. “I um… I thought I could-”

“Make it up to me?” She nods and Regina tsks. She slowly sits up, pushing until their positions are reversed and Emma is on her back, staring up at her, mouth falling open as Regina sinks back down onto her cock. Humming, Regina leans forward and purrs, “You are going to forget all about our guests, and you are going to make me come, as many times as I want, before you even _think_ about considering them again.”

Shifting with almost every word, practically grinding their pelvises together, Emma forgets them long before Regina has even finished speaking. She nods, powerless to do anything other than agree, as Regina kisses her and begins to move against her in earnest.

 

...

 

When Regina finally does decide to grant her mercy and they enter the dining hall at least an hour later, Zelena notices them first. At her raised brow, Emma shrugs and bites the inside of her cheek when Zelena then turns to glare at Regina. “You two certainly took your sweet time.”

Unfazed, Regina takes her seat at the head of the table. “I fail to understand why you thought I would waste my time entertaining uninvited guests when I could be entertaining myself,” she reasons, eyeing Cora beside her before she flicks her wrist and transports her mother to the other end of the table.

She gestures to the newly vacated seat and Emma sits, her face completely blank despite how hard she wants to laugh at the look of shock on Cora’s face. Jonathan, bless him, shows no such restraint, and neither does Henry; both of them snorting their amusement only to outright laugh when Cora glares at them.

Regina’s mouth twitches but otherwise she ignores them, her attention solely on Zelena. “Speaking of wasting time,” she drawls, “why is there no food out here?”

“There was,” Jonathan interjects. When she turns to him, he grins and adds, “I ate it.”

It’s then that Cora chooses to speak up, and Emma wishes she hadn’t. “Your Cook decided she wasn’t going to do her job until you arrived.”

“Then, mother dearest, she _was_ doing her job.” Regina glares down the table. “I realize you have difficulty in distinguishing fantasy from reality, but _I_ am Queen whereas _you_ are little more than a nuisance whose only favour to this world or any other would have been starving to death.”

“Well.” Cora sniffs. “That was uncalled for.”

Emma drops her head to the table, tempted to just start banging against it. If Cora really is here because she misses Regina and wants to try and work through things between them, then she isn’t off to a great start. How she thinks antagonizing her very volatile daughter is going to bridge the gaping chasm between them is a mystery.

Not only that, Emma had been promised food an hour ago, only to be nearly fucked unconscious. She’s _hungry_.

“One day, mother, I am going to strangle you. Perhaps I’ll rip out your lover’s heart and-”

Emma straightens quickly, back snapping taught as her eyes widen and she loudly, without a sliver of subtlety, clears her throat. Regina pauses to glance at her, and Emma quickly nods in the direction of Jonathan. Regina rolls her eyes. “Really, Emma, he lives here; he’s going to hear and see a lot worse than me threatening the bane of my existence and her brainless little toy.”

Point. “Fine,” she huffs. “I’m hungry. Feed me.”

Regina squints and Emma smiles sweetly, lashes fluttering. Sighing, head shaking, Regina snaps her fingers. As the doors open to permit the servants carrying in platters upon platters of food, she murmurs, “You’re lucky you’re more than just a pretty face.”

Emma smirks and responds just as quietly, “As are you, sweet cheeks.”

 

...

 

Emma escapes with Jonathan the first chance she gets. Once the food had arrived and they started to eat, everything became about a thousand times more awkward. No one was talking and all you could hear was the occasional scrape of utensils. When Regina rose and declared it was time to _get this over with_ , Emma had taken it as her cue to grab Jonathan and flee before anyone could decide she needed to be a part of any of it.

She felt a little bad about leaving Regina to fend for herself, but when she’d glanced back to see if Regina was angry she was running away, there was a look of understanding and a small smile on her face. Emma assumed that meant she wouldn’t be found and dragged back by her ears later, and could only hope that it also meant she wouldn’t return to find a nice, cozy cell waiting for her.

They’d left just over an hour ago and walked around the market for a little while to see if there was anything worth buying. There wasn’t. They then visited Galas to see if he needed any help. He didn’t. At a loss, they simply walked around until they found themselves near the stables where they decided it was as good a place as any to hide out until they deemed they’d waited long enough and it was safe for them to return.

Emma had climbed up into the small loft above the horses where she now lies, _just_ able to make out the top of Jonathan’s head from his position on top of Rocinante; Regina’s monster of a horse.

“Emma?”

Shifting to see them more clearly, she answers, “Yeah bud?”

Jonathan tips his head back to look up at her, brow drawn. “What’s a ward?”

Surprised, though not entirely, she exhales softly. She’d be surprised if Regina told him, but not surprised if she told him and didn’t bother to go into detail. Hoping she isn’t about to give anything away, she chuckles and says, “She finally told you about that, huh.”

“Yeah.”

Nodding, she releases another breath. “I guess… it’s kind of like a son?” She knows it’s not. Not entirely, but it’s the closest thing she can think of. A guardian would be a more appropriate word, but she also thinks it’s a stupid one.

“She wants to be my mom?”

Stalling a little to give herself some time to think, she sits up slowly. “Kind of,” she says, facing him as she crosses her legs. Curious, she asks, “When did she tell you?”

“It was while you were at the cottage,” he replies, screwing up his face. “She just... appeared, said she was thinking about making me her ward, told me to think about whether or not I wanted that, then she… um-” He frowns adorably and scratches his head before continuing, “-poofed back to you?”

Emma chuckles. Definitely not surprised. “Yeah, she does things like that. I think she thinks if she explains herself, she’ll spontaneously explode.” He grins. She grins back and shrugs. “She basically wants to look after you. Food, clothes, a roof over your head; that sort of thing. She’d make decisions you’re too young to make… protect you. You’d have no obligations other than, you know, being grateful she didn’t just toss you out on the street.”

“I would be.” He insists, “I _am_. Grateful, I mean.”

She smiles softly. She’d been around long enough to know he’s telling the truth. If it weren’t for the way his face lights up whenever Regina enters the same room as him, then the little glimpses she catches of him staring at Regina when he thinks no one is looking would have given him away in a heartbeat. “Yeah. I know.”

“She’s really nice when she’s not…” He trails off and looks away, and Emma laughs at the hint of pink she sees in his cheeks.

She teases, “Being scary?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. It’s how she feels about Regina most of the time, the exception being she doesn’t really mind the scary bits. She understands the need for them, the reasons, when they’re genuine. “You know it’s not real, right?”

He raises his head and meets her stare. Counters, “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” she repeats, too used to his intelligence to be surprised by it. “Sometimes it needs to be.”

“I know.”

 

They fall silent and continue to stare at one another until a throat clears, drawing their attention to the stable doors. Regina glances back and forth between them, her gaze searching. For what, Emma could only guess. On the third or fourth pass, Regina finally settles on her, deciding her location, of all things, is somehow the most pertinent thing here.

“What are you doing up there?”

“You mean here,” Emma drawls, “a perfectly valid place for someone to sit, rather than down there where your _son_ is currently sitting?”

Regina doesn’t react. Not really. If you didn’t know what to look for, you wouldn’t see it, but Emma knows. She sees it; the panic, eyes a little wider and a little brighter as Regina briefly stops breathing. It passes within seconds, relief replacing it when those same eyes dart towards Jonathan who simply smiles at her.

“You mean on a horse?”

Emma grins. “I mean on the demon horse that’s the size of a small house.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“He’s ridiculous,” she counters because he _is_. He might have the sweetest, second most transfixing eyes she’s ever seen, but it’s not enough to convince her he hasn’t eaten a few people in his time.

“Get down here.”

She narrows her eyes. “Why?”

Regina smiles wryly. “So I can order him to trample you for insulting him.”

Emma shrugs and uncrosses her legs. “Okay.” She drops down before Regina can respond, chest squeezing tight upon hearing the gasp. She looks up and nearly stumbles back because Regina is _right there,_ glaring as she looks her over. “I’m okay.”

The glare softens and Regina nods, stepping even closer. She confesses quietly, “I don’t want him to trample you.”

Grinning, Emma slips her arms around her and pulls her close. “I thought you might like me a little too much to go through with it.”

“I like you _a lot_.”

She laughs. “I like you a lot too.”

“Should I close-” Too late. Regina kisses her before Jonathan can finish the sentence. He groans, “Ugh, my eyes.”


End file.
